


A Glorious Dawn Awaits at the End of Night

by Valkyrie_Of_The_Rising_Sun



Series: Transcending Bonds, an Unfulfilled Destiny [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts, 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime), 鬼滅の刃 | Kimetsu no Yaiba (Manga)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gen, Potential OOC-ness, Reincarnation, Supernatural Elements, Will add more tags when relevant, post-kh3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 90,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23982832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkyrie_Of_The_Rising_Sun/pseuds/Valkyrie_Of_The_Rising_Sun
Summary: Sometimes the second chance you need shows up as a wildcard. Literally. But to achieve something, one must sacrifice another of equal value. For Sora, the price for ending his imprisonment was the life of an innocent boy. After he woke up in the body of a young Tanjiro Kamado, Sora finds that he had no other choice but to carry on where Tanjiro had left off. Thus for years, he lived a peaceful life as Tanjiro, secretly dreaming of the day he reunites with the friends/family he inadvertently left behind when he abused the Power of Waking.However, a new wave of darkness had come in his indefinite absence. No time to gripe about lost peace; Sora would need to stand up to the trials and tribulations, as he embarks on an arduous quest. A journey that would inevitably lead him back to his roots.[Kingdom Hearts x Demon Slayer crossover] [Post KH3]
Relationships: Sora & Xion, Sora (Kingdom Hearts) & Everyone
Series: Transcending Bonds, an Unfulfilled Destiny [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740250
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	1. The Sun Rises in a Darkened Sky

Nothing. That was what Sora has seen and felt, ever since he sacrificed himself to resurrect Kairi. A great infinite expanse of bleak nothingness, where his consciousness drifted aimlessly within the empty void, barely clinging onto wakefulness. A place where all lost souls ultimately end up, and perhaps that was where Kairi would go had he not interjected.

…No, he firmly denied. Kairi is a Princess of Heart, a chosen protector of the worlds. She would most likely rejoin Kingdom Hearts upon her passing. 

That still doesn’t make it any less tragic for her life to be cut short so suddenly. Kairi deserved to be happy, to live a long life. And Sora was more than happy to grant it, even at the expense of his own life. Even if it means wandering here for eternity, lost and forgotten. 

He didn’t mind at all. At least, that was what he told himself. 

Truth to be told, Sora was beginning to feel restless as time flew past. It was impossible for him, as a formless spirit, to be able to check the time. And certainly in a blank void like where he currently was, time has no meaning. Centuries could very well have passed in the outside world, where his friends were all at. Or maybe no time had passed at all, and they had all moved on from the epic battle against the Thirteen Darknesses. 

He wondered what had occurred in the outside world, in his absence. What of Donald, Goofy, Mickey, and the rest of the Guardians of Light? How was Master Yen Sid? Did the Heartless activity finally dwindle to the point of near non-existence? Were there more Keyblade Wielders now? Were the worlds now safe from hostile world travellers? 

So many questions, yet no way to answer them. 

Sora let out a drawn-out, forlorn sigh. He glanced up, admiring the stunning starry sky in the Final World. A shooting star crossed the dark backdrop, leaving a trail of silver in its wake. He thought of his innocent days, back in Destiny Island, where they would sometimes sneak out to the Play Island at night to gaze at the stars. It often ended up into speculations of what lies in the worlds beyond their own, and fun banters. 

His heart clenched wistfully, and he forced himself to tear his gaze away. 

“At least they are all safe now…” he said to himself, continuing his purposeless walk in the void of sky and sea. 

Hands in his pockets, Sora walked. And walked. And walked. That had been his routine since his arrival, and it was unlikely it would change anytime soon. Upon his entry, Sora had tried to open a Gate to leave. Keyword being tried. To his immense horror, he was unable to summon his Keyblade. No matter how much he concentrated, the fabled weapon simply refused to heed his calls. 

Maybe it was disgusted at Sora’s disregard for the laws of the universe, and had abandoned him for a better wielder? Well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected that. Mickey, Chirithy, and so many others had warned him of the dire consequences that arose from abusing the Power of Waking. He had turned a deaf ear to them, and so he must face them. 

An out-of-place colour caught Sora’s eye. Snapped out of his reverie, he turned his sight towards the odd sight. A grey and white… spot? It was difficult to tell, with the dull lighting and the long distance between them. Curious, he ran over to its direction, hoping to get a better look. Something sprung forth within him, an emotion akin to scorching liquid fire that raged inside his heart. Sora couldn’t put a name to it. It wasn’t unpleasant, and it somewhat reminded him of the blood-boiling battles that he fought before. 

That sense of urgency. The rush of pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. And most importantly, of the first time he saw the Ocean Between. What was it again… excitement? 

“It IS a card!” whooped Sora, when he was finally at arm’s length to the oddity that he spotted. Carefully, he scooped it out of the rippling watery ground, and examined it. “I wonder how it got here?”

The card looked frustratingly familiar. Its back was covered in motifs that looked like white crosses attached to an inverted heart, in a grey and black background. Sora initially couldn’t place a finger to the symbols on the card, his mind muddled by god-knows-how-long he had been stranded on the Final World. He squinted his bright blue eyes at the motifs in deep concentration, finally widening when he recalled what it was, and who it once belonged to. 

“Hey, isn’t this… Luxord’s wildcard?” he mused curiously to himself, remembering the card Luxord had given him in his last moments. He flipped the card, but the other side was blank. 

“Huh? There’s nothing-”

Before Sora could finish his sentence, he was immediately enveloped in a blinding golden light. Startled, he yelped, instinctively brought out his arms to shield his eyes from the light. His world plummeted into inky darkness, and an odd sensation of weightlessness seized him. After a few brief moments of what felt like drifting in a dark ocean, he was suddenly forced into a very tight rubber tube by a hand who clearly had no regard to him. 

The former Keyblade wielder wanted to scream, to struggle, to make his indignation known, only to no avail. He could not open his eyes, as if some sicko had glued them together. It felt as if his lips had been sealed shut, and his vocal cords clamped shut so to prevent him from producing any sound. Around him, a voice reverberated through the dark void. Sora did not recognise who this voice belonged to, although he found himself admitting that it was very pleasant to hear, much like his mother’s back when he was younger. 

The voice, at first, was distorted. Sora could discern no intelligible words from it. To him, it was something of an accompaniment choir; they sang no lyrics, only humming to harmonise with the main melody. Bit by bit, he could begin to hear small parts of the voice’s words. Sora knew they were words, but they were in a language he could not understand. 

Language barriers had never been an issue for Sora when he was gallivanting the worlds, or for any Keyblade wielder for that matter. One of the weapon’s mystical properties was that it translates the language spoken by a foreign world’s inhabitants into one the wielder can understand, and vice versa. Something to do with allowing the Keyblade wielders to be able to do their jobs smoothly, if Sora could recall correctly. Now that he was unable to summon one… it was obvious as to why he could not understand a thing. 

The claustrophobic sensation went away, and Sora found that he could move his body once again. Blearily opening his eyes, the first thing that he saw was a wooden ceiling, and him laying on something soft. By reflex, he sat up, and the next thing he noticed were his hands. They were a lot smaller, one that most likely belonged to a child no older than five or six. Confused, he brought his ‘shrunken’ hand closer to inspect it. 

“Did I shrink or something?” he wondered aloud, only to stop short when he heard his voice. It wasn’t the adolescent voice that he was accustomed to; it was childishly squeaky and high-pitched. 

‘Wait a minute…’ he thought, with gradual horror as a realisation dawned upon him. ‘Where am I?! Why am I a kid?!’

It was too much for poor Sora to take. He screamed. A long, absolutely terrified shriek. His screams were soon eclipsed by the thundering stomps of frantic footsteps rushing into the room Sora was in. Before he knew it, a woman with lilac eyes came into his view, flustered and anxious. A young girl barely four years of age clung at the woman’s side, her dark red eyes shining with obvious concern. 

The woman opened her mouth and spoke, but Sora couldn’t understand a single thing. She sounded very worried, for reasons that the teenager-turned-boy didn’t know. 

Did she know him? 

Sora certainly didn’t recognise her. Or the young girl beside her for that matter, but he didn’t like that he was somehow making them upset. 

So, he turned his lips up into a reassuring smile, even though he didn’t know what was said to him. Right on cue, a flash of splitting pain tore his skull, eliciting a pained cry and panicked reactions. Images forced themselves into his mind, appearing and disappearing before he could even acknowledge their existence. Then, as quickly as it began, it stopped. Panting, Sora faintly felt a comforting hand on his back. The boy stilled momentarily at the abrupt contact, before turning his eyes to where the hand came from.

“Tanjiro, are you alright?” asked the woman, her brows furrowed in concern. Her eyes looked weary, yet gleamed with light. Her eyes were mesmerising, but still it did not distract Sora from finding a discovery. 

‘I can understand her now… how?’ he thought, amazed, averting his gaze downwards. ‘Wait, what did she just call me?’

“Um… I think so,” he replied carefully, rubbing both of his temples to drive away the lingering embers of his headache. “My head hurts.”

“It must be the fever,” she said, placing a hand on the boy’s forehead. 

Sora stared at her, awestruck, as foreign memories spilt into his mind. Among the mental images, he could hear snatches of a fiery-haired man and the lilac-eyed woman calling him… Tanjiro? Was that the owner of these memories’s name? And he-no, Tanjiro, calling them father and mother respectively. The woman fussing over him was Tanjiro’s mother? And if memory serves him well, she had called him Tanjiro. 

His heart stilled at the conclusion that he had drawn out based on the assumptions he had made. Had he… by some phenomenal stroke of misfortune, accidentally displaced an innocent boy’s heart out of his body? He badly wanted to clarify his situation, but memories of a certain duck mage screeching ‘Order!’ and whacking him on the head with his staff made him hold his tongue. He winced at those recollections.

Regardless, it was his responsibility to maintain the World Order, even when he no longer gallivanted the realms beyond. Most importantly, how can he break the news to them? Sora may have Tanjiro’s memories, but he wasn’t their son. And he didn’t have the heart to deliver this crushing news to this weary but kind-looking woman. 

“Are you alright, onii-chan?” asked the girl, looking up at him with those mesmerising dark red eyes. 

Sora said nothing. He wondered who she was, and as if hearing his unsaid question, echoes of a voice identical to his current one whispered in his mind, accompanied by flashes of the red-eyed girl smiling, all of them calling the young girl ‘Nezuko’. He assumed that this was Tanjiro’s younger sister. If he squinted, the former Keyblade wielder thought he could see a bright aura of light enveloping the girl that the memories call Nezuko, resembling the sun that so often shone on his homeworld on sunny days. 

She looked distraught that Sora did not answer her. That wouldn’t do. Sora hated seeing people upset, especially when he caused it. 

He bared her a comforting grin. “Don’t worry, Nezuko! I’m feeling better now, see?” 

“No, you’re not,” said T-no, _his_ mother, frowning slightly. “Your forehead’s freezing up! You’re staying in bed, no excuses.”

Sora let out a childish whine in protest. Nezuko giggled in amusement, her hand reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. 

“I’ll stay here with you!” she chirped, seemingly happy that her brother was feeling better. “Then you won’t feel so lonely anymore.”

The older boy had to resist the urge to give her a head pat. Seriously, she was so adorable! Instead, he settled for an appreciative smile. Thoughts of breaking the cold, harsh news to them dissipated in his mind. Sora really couldn’t bear to tell them the truth, no matter what. 

For the moment, Sora supposed he could play along for now. Really, though, figuring stuff out was never his thing. Riku was better at him when it comes to making the connections. It almost made him wish that he was with him… 

For the moment, he’ll just have to play by ear, and rely on the original Tanjiro’s memories to get by. 


	2. The Tides of Time

As it turned out, Sora didn’t have to act too much. 

As the days stretched into weeks, then months, and finally into years, the former Keyblade Wielder began to learn more about his new ‘family’. To be honest, he didn’t know what to feel about it. It was only in recent days did he reluctantly refer to the Kamados as ‘family’, and even then it was done with great reluctance. 

When he was banished to the Final World, his family - the one back in Destiny Islands - was still alive and well. They were not too happy about it, as expected, despite being supportive about it. He had promised to return to them prior to his departure to face the great darkness, only to realise that it was impossible to fulfil with Kairi’s untimely death by Xehanort’s hands. 

A pang of guilt stabbed into his heart. His parents must have been worried sick about him. How long had he been gone for? Are they even still around, in the off chance that he managed to return home, his real home? 

_No offence to the Kamados,_ Sora quickly thought. 

In spite of feeling some hesitance to accept them, Sora had to admit they were a tightly-knit and loving family. Tanjuro and Kie - his ‘parents’ - were strict, but kind, almost reminding Sora of his old family. Not to mention how bizarre it was to call two strangers your “father” and “mother”. Not counting Tanjiro’s memories of them, that is. On the flip side, the couple didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, so he shouldn’t complain. 

It was only after a ridiculous amount of time did he finally deduce that his and Tanjiro’s personalities were very similar. Boy, did Sora feel silly now, spending the days before worrying his head off of how he should act when he could have just acted like himself in the first place. 

Well, it’s not all bad, to be honest. 

As an only child, Sora had always wanted a younger sibling. When he was younger, he remembered begging his parents to have a younger brother or sister, oblivious to their flusters and turning a deaf ear to their futile explanations of why they couldn’t. He still had that childish wish. 

Up until now, that is. 

The Kamado family was a large one. When Sora woke up in the Kamado household, there were three children. Himself, Nezuko, and an infant named Takeo. Tanjiro was the eldest child, which translates to Sora - now filling Tanjiro’s place - having siblings under his care. Not that he minded, he loved taking care of people and making them happy, especially his siblings. 

Perhaps it was the idea of having someone to bond with, Sora didn’t know. He wasn’t lonely back when he was a kid, being a social butterfly and living in a small community, and still he wanted siblings. But it didn’t matter, he was happy about it. He had a close bond with all of his siblings, exactly as how he had wished for a lifetime ago had he a younger sibling. 

Yet, there was something special about Nezuko that he couldn’t put a name to. 

Nezuko was the eldest daughter, Tanjiro’s younger sister (that kinda makes her Sora’s younger sister, wouldn’t it?), and about a year his junior. They were close, that’s for certain; but when it was compared to his relationship with the other Kamado children, it was like describing a saccharine dessert as ‘not very sweet’. Since their first meeting - actually, it was _his_ first meeting - Sora felt drawn to her. 

It wasn’t the creepy stalker-ish kind of attraction, no. It was sort of… how was it? Oh, right, déjà vu, that’s the right word. Like they’ve met before, and had hit it off too. It was unlikely, considering that she doesn’t seem to know him - the one who inhabits her brother’s body, and Sora was certain that the opposite is true as well. Yet, he just couldn’t shake the overpowering feeling that he should recognise her. A gut feeling, if you will. 

His intuition had never led him astray before, so Sora decided to heed it.

So he began to spend his time with Nezuko whenever possible, in the hopes that it would somehow unravel a few clues that would give him some leads. In the end, Sora found nothing, but he did end up with a closer bond with his oldest younger sister. He wasn’t disheartened by the lack of discovery, per se; but he still dropped the search nonetheless, coming to the conclusion that the answer would present itself to him with time. 

Eventually, Sora’s hesitance began to wear off, and he finally accepted the Kamados as his new family. Nevertheless, he grieved over the loss of his old one, and felt gratitude for whichever divine forces watching over him for granting him the second chance that he had begged for. 

One way or another, it was time for Sora to move on from his old life, and settle into his new one. 

He still had hopes that he would somehow meet his friends again, though. 

* * *

The winter of the year Sora became Tanjiro, he witnessed something miraculous. A sight that can easily rival the wonders that he had saw during his world-gallivanting days. He was absolutely certain that he would never, ever forget it. 

It was the last day of the year. The day went on as normal, until the afternoon approached. Whilst Sora was outside frolicking in the snow with Nezuko, he caught sight of his father setting up bamboo torches in a clearing beside their abode. It had snowed heavily the day before, but the clearing was suspiciously devoid of it. Sora assumed that someone had shovelled it off. The frail-looking man arranged the torches in a large circle within the snow-free area, inspecting them meticulously whenever he planted one, ensuring that they do not topple over. 

Intrigued, Sora toddled over to the red-haired man. Even though he was accustomed to his sudden shrunken form, it was hard not to teeter whenever he moved from place to place. 

“Father, what are you doing?” he asked, eyeing the torches with unbridled curiosity. Tanjuro smiled goodnaturedly at his son’s awestruck expression. 

“I’m preparing the clearing for our family tradition,” the man explained with a gentle smile. “New Year’s Day is coming, after all.”

“What is it?” 

“I’m going to perform a kagura dance. Our family works with fire for generations, so every year we offer this dance to the Hinokami, along with our prayers, to ward off injuries and disasters.” 

Sora’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can I join in too?”

Tanjuro barked out a laugh, ruffling Sora’s hair affectionately as he did. “Not now, Tanjiro. But someday, you’ll do it in my stead.”

Sora whined in disappointment, but cheered up after being told that he was allowed to watch Tanjuro perform the kagura dance. 

When the sun had begun to sink into the horizon, he, Kie and Nezuko went to the clearing. Tanjuro was already there, dressed in ritualistic brown robes with fiery motifs emblazoned on the fabric and a crimson headband wrapped around his head. A white cloth with a peculiar symbol was draped over his face. In his hand was a stick, with branches that curved upwards in a way that reminded Sora of Maleficent’s head ornaments, with pieces of jagged red fabric purposefully cut to resemble flames tied to them, one for each branch. Bells were attached at the end of the handle. In the middle of the cleared circle, Tanjuro stood, a contagious aura of composure and purpose enveloping him. In the amber light of the fire from the torches, accented by the gradual darkness of night, he really looked like a fire deity who had descended to earth with a purpose. 

The ritual had not even begun yet, but Sora was already starstruck by the impressive sight. Nezuko had a similar reaction, blatantly gawking and struggling to contain herself. Beside them, Kie smiled. 

Then, it began. And Sora’s amazement rose to new heights, enraptured by the empowering execution of each movement. This was no ordinary dance, Sora was certain. Its footwork was deft, and its movements were powerful. Whenever Tanjuro moved the stick in his hand, Sora was instantly blasted back to the times where he and Riku would spar at the Play Island. This kagura… it was almost like a sword dance, with the dancer as a master swordsman. A style that was full of spirit, full of _fire,_ just like the deity which this kagura was intended for. 

He stood and watched, dumbstruck and mesmerised by his father’s dance. So engrossed, in fact, that by the time Sora had snapped out of it, night had already fallen. Nezuko, at some point, had fallen asleep, with Kie having swaddled her sleeping daughter with a cloth and carrying her on her back. The lilac-eyed woman quietly observed the kagura, a fond smile gracing her lips. 

A question popped into Sora’s mind. 

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear?”

“How can Father dance in the cold for so long when his body is frail?” asked Sora, turning his eyes to meet Kie’s purple ones. “I bet my lungs would freeze if I try the same thing.”

The woman smiled enigmatically, but didn’t answer Sora. The reincarnated Keyblade Wielder pondered upon that mystery for months; how did he endure the cold? He hadn’t seen or felt any magic since arriving in this world, so that couldn’t be it. So, how? 

The answer came to him two seasons later, when Tanjuro’s illness began its gradual severity. The man was often bedridden for days on end, rarely well enough to be able to walk on his own without support. When Sora checked up on Tanjuro, he recalled the question that has bothered him since he watched him perform the Dance of the Fire God last winter. He debated on asking him the million-yen question, wondering on whether the sickly man would mind, until he decided to ask anyway. 

“Hey, father?” said Sora tentatively, shyly looking away. “How did you dance in the cold for so long?”

Tanjuro smiled, stroking his son’s wavy red locks. “There’s a breathing technique, one that is passed down from father to son in our family for centuries.”

“Breathing technique?” parroted Sora, looking up at Tanjuro’s burgundy eyes with a newfound interest. 

“Right,” he nodded, his gentle countenance never wavering. “A way to breathe so that you won’t exhaust yourself, no matter how much you move. If you master the correct way to breathe, you’ll be able to dance forever, too. The cold won’t bother you, either.”

“Wow,” breathed Sora, astonished at the revelation. He hadn’t expected the answer to his mystery was as simple as controlling the pace of one’s breathing. “And I’ll be able to do it one day?”

“Of course,” said Tanjuro. His expression then morphed into a solemn one. “Tanjiro, if nothing else, make sure this kagura and these earrings get passed down to you uninterrupted. And do the same to your descendants, just like I did to you. Do you understand?”

Sora gaped, stunned, before he recovered enough to give a resolute reply. “I understand, father.”

* * *

Since the day the father-son duo had that conversation, Tanjuro decided that the following day was the best time to pass on the family’s kagura dance and the breathing techniques to Sora. 

The movements were easy… were he still in his prime, that is. Turns out wandering a peaceful world for possibly years and then being transferred into a foreign body messes up his reflexes, badly. Getting used to the breathing techniques was a whole different issue, and combining it with the dance made it a lot difficult. Granted, doing the breathing techniques _consciously_ was easy. The twelve forms were easy to master, if done separately with the breathing techniques. 

Eventually, Sora got the hang of it. He was positively elated after his father had nodded approvingly and told him he had mastered the kagura, on a warm autumn’s night. So much so, that he repeated the movements, over and over, until daybreak where he was found slumped on the ground outside, snoring blissfully away. 

He had the biggest chewing out from Kie after he woke up. But it was worth it. Totally worth it.

That winter, Tanjuro was still the performer for the New Year’s ritual, but there was something different about it. His movements looked a tad sluggish, and if Sora squinted, he could see his father occasionally struggling for breath when last year he had no problems at all. Unconsciously, he felt his heart sink. Although he smiled outwardly, he could feel that his smile was a wistful one. 

Tanjuro may not have said it outright, but his days are numbered. Sora knows now. 

* * *

At the end of the following autumn, the Kamado’s latest addition arrived onto this world. A healthy girl that his parents christened Hanako. 

Sora and Nezuko adored the newborn girl. Takeo, on the other hand, trying and failing to hide his immense disappointment that Hanako was not born a boy. The older members of the family could see it, plain as day. The flustered look on the youngest son’s face when Sora teased him about it was the highlight of the already wonderful day, with everyone chuckling amusedly. Even baby Hanako chortled slightly. 

Perhaps that was why Hanako was so fond of teasing Takeo when she was older.

* * *

Winter came too quickly for Sora’s liking. As soon as it came, the heavens had wasted no time in kicking up a fierce blizzard. The weather was so atrocious, that it had forced the Kamados to barricade themselves in their home, swathing themselves in thick layers of winter clothing and huddling at the fireplace to keep warm. 

When the atrocious weather died down, nearly two days later, it was midnight. Sora found himself unable to sleep that night, but he didn’t want to disturb his family, so he lay on his sides, staring blankly ahead and reminiscing of his time as Sora. Not as Sora, the saviour of the worlds and one of the Guardians of Light, but as Sora the ordinary islander boy. A curious, upbeat teenager who wondered what lies beyond the skyline that he, Riku and Kairi sees so frequently. 

He perked when the howlings fell into a deathly silence. _Blizzard’s stopped,_ he thought. Carefully as not to stir a soul, Sora got up, wrapped a blanket around him and slowly made his way to the exit. 

Crisp coldness stung his exposed cheeks as he stepped foot outside, but Sora was not at all deterred. The refreshing scent of fresh snow and of the wilderness invaded his nostrils, invigorating his spirit. When Sora discovered that Tanjiro had a nose more sensitive than Pluto’s - Mickey's ever-loyal hound, he at first rued the day he picked up Luxord’s wildcard, for it made many things overbearing for him. What was bearable for others, was almost overwhelming for him. It took him months to accustom himself to the unusually powerful sense of smell.

He took a few moments to savour the freshness of the wintry wonderland’s smell, before he perched on the floor of the entrance, letting his stubby seven-year-old legs dangle over the raised wooden flooring whilst he admired the stars above. The night sky was exceptionally clear, since the horrible weather had just passed, just as Sora had hoped for. 

He recalled someone had once told him that stars were the light of other worlds, shining down on them like a million lanterns. Sora wasn’t exactly sure who told him that, but it did make them a lot more beautiful and his former occupation worthwhile, to see his efforts contributed in the light’s prolonged existence, which also meant that the inhabitants of the Realm of Light get an opportunity to realise their hopes and dreams. 

A nostalgic smile crept across Sora’s lips. Underneath his breath, he muttered wistfully, “I hope they’re doing well. Riku, Kairi, and the others.”

“Nii-san?” 

Sora nearly leapt out of his skin. He swivelled, meeting the dark red eyes of Nezuko. A thick blanket wrapped around her petite figure, exposing only her face. Her head was tilted to the side questioningly, and her eyes gleamed with an odd, indecipherable emotion.

“Oh, it’s you, Nezuko,” wheezed Sora in relief, placing a hand over his pounding heart to calm himself down. He released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in. He softened. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

The girl nodded. “I had a bad dream. I thought going outside would calm me down.”

“I see,” he sighed, turning his gaze to the night sky. “Do you want to talk about your nightmares?”

The younger girl shook her head. “It’s fine. Who were you talking to, anyway?”

“No one,” replied Sora. “I was talking to myself.”

Nezuko said nothing about her brother’s peculiar response. She settled down beside him, and joined him in stargazing. No words were exchanged between them, but they did not feel awkward about the lack of interaction. The other’s presence was more than enough for them, at the moment. A few minutes later, Nezuko was the first to break the silence.

“Hey, nii-san?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think stars are?”

Sora hummed thoughtfully. “Well, someone in a dream once told me that stars are the light of other worlds-”

“Shining down on us like a million lanterns.” Nezuko finished for him. Sora snapped his head to her in surprise. 

“How did you know that?” he said shakily, eyes widened in shock. 

Nezuko smiled, but it seemed rather melancholic and had a longing quality to it. To his surprise, indigo flecks bled into her once pure-crimson irises, and a spectre overlapped her appearance. A spectre of a petite ravenette, her hair slicked into a bob and indigo eyes filled with sadness. It was of a face that Sora had never expected to see again. His hand flew to his hand in astonishment.

“Do you remember now, Sora?” 

“Xion… is it really you?” choked Sora, stupefied by the bombshell and on the verge of bursting into tears. She nodded affirmatively.

That was the last straw for the reincarnated Keyblade Wielder. He wrapped her in an emotional embrace, letting loose the waterworks but dared not to wail in fear that it was simply an illusion generated by his longing for his friends. The former replica was a bit slow to return the gesture, stunned by the sudden action, but she soon joined in the weeping as well, hugging him back with just as much fervour. 

Xion was the first to pull away. Without missing a beat, she ruthlessly whacked Sora on the upside of his head, eliciting a pained yelp from the boy. 

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“That’s for disappearing on us!” chided Xion, furiously punching at Sora’s ribs, ignoring his pleas for her to stop. “Do you have any idea how worried sick we are, pulling that reckless stunt like that and losing yourself in the process? Especially Kairi! She wasn’t the same since you disappeared, you know! She never stopped looking for you.”

“I…” 

“Don’t you ever do that again!” 

Sora raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! I get it! Can you stop now, please?!”

“Are you sure?” Xion glared dubiously, scouring his face for any form of deceit and pointing a finger warningly at him. 

“Yes!” Sora nodded desperately. “I promise, I’ll never do that again!”

“Good,” said Xion, satisfied with Sora response. She engulfed the older boy in a bear hug again, making him let out a small squeak in surprise. “But seriously, it’s good to have you back, Sora.”

“Ditto,” grinned Sora. A thoughtful look crossed over his face. “Wait. How long have I been gone for? And when did you come here?”

“Well…” Xion tapped her chin, deep in thought. She had released her grip on Sora a while ago. “You definitely disappeared long enough for us to take on apprentices of our own and passing down our Keyblades to them, and dying of old age. Kairi never really got over it, even in her last moments.”

Sora winced at the indirect jab. 

“As for when I came here… well, let me rephrase that. When I _remember_ would be a better question.” Xion paused to shoot Sora an odd smile. “I remembered just now.”

“Just now?!” 

“Yep,” said Xion cheerfully, popping the ‘p’. “I was on the verge of remembering anyway, but when you gave me the answer about the stars it jogged my memories enough for me to recall everything all at once.” 

“How?” breathed Sora, disbelievingly. “You sure didn’t act like it! When I remembered it hurt a _lot!_ I mean a _lot!_ ”

“I’m just a better actress,” she dismissed flippantly. Upon seeing Sora’s incredulous countenance, Xion grinned. “Just kidding. It didn’t hurt for me. It was more like an annoying buzz that refuses to go away until I remembered.”

“Lucky you,” muttered Sora. “And no wonder I felt drawn towards you. My heart had sensed your connection with me before either of us realised what was going on.”

“You should listen to it more often, then,” teased Xion, winking. “At least it’s not as dense as you.”

Silence, and the two descended into quiet giggles. 

A thought entered his mind. “Say, since Tanjiro and Nezuko are siblings… does that mean we’re actually brother and sister now?”

“Should we play the part, then? Just for normalcy’s sake?” Xion hummed, before her face morphed into a frown as she absent-mindedly kicked her legs. “I mean, it’s hard for me to think of you as anything other than my older brother now, with Nezuko’s memories messing up some of my thought processes.”

“I can’t disagree with that,” concurred Sora, putting his hands behind his head. 

* * *

Sora’s life began to look brighter, with Nezuko revealing herself to be Xion. Their life went on as normal, and their family had yet another addition nearly a year after Hanako. Shigeru, the thirdborn son. As much as the family loved him, Shigeru was a complete handful and simply refused to stay put for even a minute, much to the exasperation of everyone. 

The moment when he started walking was when the nightmare of making sure he didn’t wander off to somewhere dangerous started. Very often, the older Kamado siblings would have to gently lead Shigeru away and occupy him with games. 

It didn’t stop him from obliviously becoming a menace. That is, until one day.

As everyone else was occupied with something at the time, Shigeru was unwittingly left to his own devices. With nothing else better to do, the toddler decided to go explore every nook and cranny of the house, trying to find something interesting. Eventually, he wandered into a room where he found a brazier containing some smouldering red hot coals. Being a curious toddler, he waddled over to the burning brazier, trying to see what was it that made the pretty white smoke. 

Coincidentally, Sora entered the room, just in time to see Shigeru trying to climb up the brazier. Eyes wide with alarm, he raced over to the toddler. 

“No, Shigeru! Stop!” he yelled, panicked at the toddler’s blissful ignorance to the danger he was putting himself in. Too late. He had tipped the brazier over.

Without any care for his wellbeing, Sora recklessly leapt into the fray. In a brief period of time, he pried Shigeru off the metal frame, placed himself between Shigeru and the brazier and wrapped his arms protectively around the two-year-old. The result? The metal equipment fell squarely on his top left side of Sora’s forehead, leaving behind an excruciating burning pain at the inflicted area.

Good thing Tanjiro had a hard forehead. Sora thanked the lucky stars that he emerged from the incident with only a scarred forehead and some burns on his arms. He knew it could have been a lot worse. 

At least Shigeru now understood why everyone so badly wanted him to stay put whenever possible. It still didn’t deter him from wanting to play all the time, much to their dismay.

* * *

Тhe subsequent years after became increasingly tumultuous. After the birth of their youngest sibling, Rokuta, Tanjuro’s illness rendered the man bedridden permanently. With the family’s breadwinner out of commission, Sora, being the eldest, takes up the mantle of being the provider of the Kamado family. Xion does her bit as well, sometimes taking commissions from the townspeople at the foot of the mountain where they lived as a seamstress.

The family knew that Tanjuro would not live long, but they held on to the hope that he would make a miraculous recovery somehow. 

Tanjuro never did. He inevitably succumbed to his ailment one winter, the year when Sora turned ten physically. Everyone was saddened by his passing, especially the younger ones, including the infant Rokuta. It wasn’t surprising; after all, Rokuta was the most attached to Tanjuro out of the six siblings. 

Since then, he succeeded his father as head of the Kamado family. Their economic status had never been greatest before Tanjuro’s death, and it was more pronounced after it. Still, they were never poor to the point they would go hungry. They only had just enough money to cover the necessities for a family of seven. Their life can be harsh, but they never once complained. In anything, the bonds between them were strengthened by the hardships that they shared. 

Yet, deep down, Sora and Xion knew that their lives were only going to get harder. Once a person was chosen to be wielded by a Keyblade, their lives are destined to be full of strife, misery and danger. Even after foregoing that ability, it would seem the curse that came from wielding such a powerful weapon lingers on… the two reincarnated Keyblade Wielders were very well aware of that. 

They could only hope that their new family would not suffer because of a curse that was inflicted upon them in a past life. 


	3. 3. How Cruel the Fates are

A pungent staleness rudely infiltrated Sora’s nose. Alarmed, he snapped awake, finding himself drifting within a familiar darkness. 

He knew better than to struggle and flail for control. This darkness… was not the darkness he was constantly at odds with. This is the darkness of the void; an empty, benign force only interested in serving in sole purpose. And it wasn’t just any plain old nothingness - this is the void that serves as the interface to a heart. His heart, to be exact. Don’t ask him how he knew; Sora simply did. 

The Dive to the Heart was a rite of passage for all of those chosen by the Keyblades, something like an inauguration ritual. Sora should know; he underwent one the day Kingdom Key revealed itself to him. Granted, it wasn’t originally his, but he still proved himself to have the potential simply by wielding it for so long. The trusty silver key had stuck with him through all of his trials and tribulations, after it had made its choice between him and Riku in Maleficent’s final days at Hollow Bastion, and they had faced down every single one of the countless battles against the Darkness together. 

How naïve was he to think that the Keyblade would never leave him. Especially if it had once chosen him over Riku, its original wielder. He learned that the hard way when the Kingdom Key deserted him after his imprisonment in the Final World.

Ever since Sora lost the Keyblade, for the second time and for good, he was powerless. Well, not really, since he could still use magic, but he lost access to most of his abilities. Flowmotion, Limits, Summons, even Tier 3 spells… they no longer worked at his will, no matter how hard he concentrated. The Power of Waking was definitely a given, considering how terribly he had abused it. 

“…Is any of this for real…” breathed Sora, feeling his body sinking down, down, down into the inky depths of the abyss. “Or not…?”

He closed his eyes. When Sora reopened them, he was no longer sinking. Instead, he now stood on a stained glass platform, the physical representation of his heart. Its ethereal blue glow illuminated the darkness of the abyss, bathing Sora in its clear luminance. A nostalgic smile crept up his face; even after who-knows-how-long, his Station remained the same. Mostly, at least. 

It still had Destiny Islands as the background, and an illustration of his fourteen-year-old self sleeping at the inner margin. Faces of his closest companions adorned the innermost circles, signifying their importance to Sora. One of the only differences was that there was a rising sun in the horizon, tinting the cerulean slightly with warm amber. His illustration no longer wielded the Kingdom Key, so his right arm was just dangling over the edge, nothing in hand. Sora let out a deflated sigh at the sight - Kingdom Key really did abandon him, for real. That was a bit of a hard pill to swallow.

_ Still the same as ever, huh…? _

Sora flinched, instinctively tilting his head upwards. The voice wasn’t really a voice, in his opinion. It was rather whoever speaking to him had imprinted the words in his mind, so it was more like reading in his head than it was actually hearing the words being enunciated aloud. Cocking his head inquisitively, he yelled a question in response. 

“Who are you?”

_ It does not matter. I am here purely for business. Do you know why your Keyblade deserted you? _

“Ah…” stammered Sora, caught off-guard by its gruff attitude. “I… uh…”

_ Tsk, tsk. Very well, I’ll entertain you. Kingdom Key is not an ordinary Keyblade. It is a weapon that is rightfully wielded by the chosen warrior of Hers. Tell me: what do you think this chosen one’s duty is? _

Despite being a telepathic imprint, Sora thought he sensed heavy disappointment dripping from his - it felt like a he, anyway - words _.  _ Maybe he screwed up a lot worse than he thought…?

“To protect the World Order?” Sora hazarded a guess, crossing his arms in puzzlement. 

_ Yes, that is one of them, but it seems there is a misunderstanding here. Let me rephrase my question: what is their  _ **_primary_ ** _ duty? _

“Beats me,” replied Sora, after giving it some thought. His face was scrunched up in confusion. “Isn’t it a Keyblade Wielder’s duty to preserve the peace across the Realms?”

_ Correct. But you… you are not merely a Wielder. You are so, so much more…  _

“How am I ‘much more’?!” he screamed, tired of playing ‘beat around the bush’ with whoever this person he was talking to. “If I were, no one would have to suffer! My friends wouldn’t have to suffer!”

_ Temper, temper, my boy. The fact that Kingdom Key chose you - and no one else - to wield it… is proof of your potential. You are a Wielder that ensures no one breaks the Laws of the Universe.  _

“The Laws… of the Universe?” repeated Sora, as if savouring the phrase. Then, his eyes shot up in realisation. “Oh…”

_ That’s right. You are supposed to ensure no one, absolutely NO ONE, breaks the laws of nature. And you went ahead and broke them, thinking yourself all invincible because you won a small-scale war. You would not have faced incarceration, had you chosen to restore your lover back to life by other means! The Power of Waking is a gift used to awaken  _ **_sleeping_ ** _ hearts, not to bring back the goddamned dead! Do you have any idea how disappointed we are with your irresponsibility?! So much potential, all wasted because you couldn’t get over your grief.  _

“I know that!” retorted Sora, voice rising in anger. “She… Kairi doesn’t deserve to have her life ending by  _ his  _ hands just like that! She isn’t a tool; she’s a person! A person with a beating heart!

“I…” Sora glanced down, his fists trembling with unadulterated emotion. He felt tears stinging his eyes, and a lone tear trickled down his left cheek. “I just want her to be happy. I knew what I was going to do was wrong, but… my life just isn’t worth living without her…”

The Voice fell silent. Quiet sobs soon occupied the pregnant silence. 

_ I see. So you did it because you had nothing to lose. Am I right? _

“Yes.”

_ What you did was inexcusable, but after hearing your side of the matter… we decided to give you a chance to redeem your mistakes. If we find you breaking the Laws again, not only will you find yourself back in the Final World, you won’t be able to escape via reincarnation as you did now. Have I made myself clear? _

“Yes. Although… may I ask why?”

_ The world needs the Guardians to step up once again. While we are a bit… hesitant to grant you power, considering your less than clean records, we realise that it is imperative that you be restored to your former strength. But I’ll make it clear: you are now in… what was it called again? Ah, yes, probation. If you succeed in your endeavours, we will lift your probation. Understood?  _

“Understood,” Sora nodded confidently. “So what am I expected to do?”

_ Defeat the true enemy. Once, and for all. _

* * *

Without warning, the glass beneath his feet shattered into millions of iridescent shards. Sora, caught off guard, had no time to yell out in surprise, as he was sent hurtling down deeper into the dark abyss. Falling, falling, falling… until the last of consciousness faded away into oblivion.

When Sora came back to earth, he realised he was standing outside in the snow, a basketful of freshly-produced charcoal slung behind his back. Something damp and coursed wiped across his face, startling him so much that he involuntarily did a backpedal. The surprised cry belonging to Kie shook him out of his confused reverie. 

“Tanjiro?” she asked, concerned about his weird behaviour as all caring mothers are wont to do, a damp cloth in hand. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing, mother,” dismissed Sora, smiling reassuringly at Kie. His eyes met the woman’s gentle lilac ones. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to go, you know?” said Kie softly, as she placed the cloth down. “It’s snowing outside, you might catch a cold. You once caught one so bad when you were younger, remember? I was so worried that you wouldn’t be able to recover from it.”

“Yes, mother,” agreed Sora, Tanjiro’s memories filling him up on what happened. It only happened because Tanjiro played with the leftover snow that hadn’t melted before spring came. “But don’t worry. I’m stronger now, see? And besides, I want us to have a New Year’s feast, so I’ll go sell as much charcoal as I can.”

“Thank you, Tanjiro,” smiled Kie, affectionately caressing Sora’s wavy locks. 

“Nii-san!” yelled a young voice. Sora smiled at the sight of a boy with a shaved head rushing towards him, his face flushed from the cold. Shigeru skidded to stop just in front of the older boy, and grinned up at him. “Are you going to town today?” 

“Wha-” spluttered Takeo, a hatchet over his shoulder. 

“What? No fair!” cried Hanako, overhearing the last bit of their conversation. She ran outside, immediately latching on Sora tightly. “I wanna go too! Take me with you, nii-san!”

“No way! I asked first!” protested Shigeru, proceeding to attach himself onto Sora’s arm. 

“Alright, alright,” laughed Sora, amused by his siblings' antics, ruffling their heads affectionately. They brightened up, looking at him with shimmering scarlet eyes. “But, please, stay at home.”

“Aww,” both children whined, crestfallen. 

“Your brother’s right,” agreed Kie, a stern look on her face. “He isn’t taking the cart today, so he won’t be able to pull you if you’re tired.”

“Tsk,” huffed Takeo, shifting his gaze away in disappointment. 

“Takeo,” said Sora, while trying to pacify his crying siblings. “I know you can’t do much, but at least cut a little wood today, okay?”

“I will, but,” muttered Takeo, averting his gaze moodily. “…I was hoping we could do it together.”

“Sorry, but maybe tomorrow, alright?” he said apologetically, ruffling Takeo’s hair as he said that. The second Kamado son spluttered in embarrassment, and crimson flooded his cheeks. 

“H-hey! Stop that, nii-san!”

“Look!” pointed Shigeru, grinning widely with glee. “Takeo is blushing!”

“I-I’m not!” denied Takeo, but the redness on his face only deepened with that statement. 

Tickled, the Kamados all laughed, much to Takeo’s mortification. Sora was the first to stop. With a beaming smile, he patted Takeo on the head. 

“Be good. I’ll come back before nightfall.”

“If you say so…” grumbled the boy, conceding defeat. 

Waving back to his family for a final time, Sora set off, hearing his siblings yelling out well wishes behind him. He didn’t get too far before someone else intercepted him. 

“Nii-san!” 

Sora snapped his head towards the source. With a low voice so that no one could hear them, he returned the greetings, “Xion.”

They still responded to their given names “Tanjiro” and “Nezuko”, although privately they called each other by the names they were first known as. Xion uses his name and honorifics interchangeably, even in private conversations. Sora thought it was because of her memories as Nezuko cropping up every now and then, and it seemed to be the case. 

“I was putting Rokuta to sleep when I heard the commotion,” she explained, looking back at the sleeping toddler clinging to her back. Sora reached out a hand to stroke the boy’s head. “They’ve been so lonely since Father died, so they’ve all started to cling onto you.”

“I know,” he replied with a gentle smile. “And I don’t mind. I’ve always wanted siblings, before I was Tanjiro, I mean.”

Xion smiled sadly. “Do you think we’ll meet  _ them _ again, Sora?”

Sora noted the emphasised word, understanding who the former Replica was referring to. “I know we will. Our hearts are connected, remember? We'll find our way back to them one day.”

“Right,” she said, before her head perked. “Oh, right! Takenouchi-san’s kimono!”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” grinned Sora, pulling out a neatly folded violet garment. “I’ll deliver it to her for you.”

“Oh, thank the stars…” Xion exhaled a sigh in relief. Almost instantaneously, she brightened up. “Well, see you later then! Stay safe, won’t you?”

“I will.”

Bidding their farewells, Sora resumed his journey down the mountain. 

* * *

“You think he’ll be able to do it?”

“Yes. I have the utmost confidence that he will succeed.”

“What is it that you see in that boy? He’s so… so…”

“Emotional?”

“Yes. That. How can a warrior be emotional?! That’s an insult to true warriors!”

“That is the source of his strength. Do not forget; wielders of the Keys draw their strength from their hearts.”

“How is that answering the question?!”

“Life is never easy, my friend. Especially for a mortal; the fragile, vulnerable beings. It is like the weather, ever-changing and never allowing people to be complacent. The snow never falls forever, and the sunshine never lasts forever. That is where their strength lies. And besides… 

“He’ll soon have his first whiff of the end of his sunshine. If he is as half as strong as I had envisioned, he’ll accustom himself quickly to the constant scent of blood in the air…”

* * *

“Oh, Tanjiro! Did you come down the mountain on an atrocious day like this? You work so hard! Careful or you’ll catch a cold!”

Sora grinned at the old woman who was the first to greet him. “Thank you. And don’t worry, I take good care of myself.”

Her greetings soon attracted the rest of the townspeople, and soon they were all clambering for his attention, either to thank him for fixing their doors, windows and whatnot, to buy some charcoal from him or to ask him for help. 

After selling some charcoal to a man, a boy no older than Sora’s physical age burst forth, his nose oozing out twin streaks of blood. The moment he laid eyes on Sora, he lighted up as if he had just met the messiah and ran over to him, clutching shards of broken china wrapped in cloth. Behind him, a furious-looking woman was hot on his heels, screaming angrily at the boy who kept on insisting something.

“Tanjiro-kun!” 

“Hmm? Oh, is something the matter, Shiro-kun?”

“You’re just in time!” shrieked the boy named Shiro, almost deliriously. “Takenouchi-san said that I broke her dish! Help me! Sniff it, and tell her I didn’t break it!”

Sora sweatdropped a little at the near-comical sight. It would have been funny, if Shiro didn’t have a nosebleed from the punishments he had received from the irate woman. He pitied the boy, remembering the times that he was in the same situations as Shiro back in Destiny Island. 

Bending over, he gave the ceramic shards a careful sniff. 

He straightened up, “I smell a cat.”

Shiro immediately cried out that he had been innocent all along, with Takenouchi sheepishly admitting her mistake. Sora inwardly chuckled at the scene, about to leave when he remembered an errand that he had promised to run in Xion’s stead. 

“Takenouchi-san!”

“Yes, Tanjiro?” responded the woman, bewildered. 

“Here,” Sora produced the violent floral-patterned kimono and handed it to Takenouchi. “Nezuko couldn’t come down the mountain, so I’m here to deliver the kimono that you commissioned.”

“My, aren’t you sweet,” crooned Takenouchi, gratefully receiving the kimono. Her face soon twisted into a complaining expression. “Why can’t my useless excuse of a son be more like you?”

Sora rubbed his nose, flattered, and simultaneously he winced at the stinging comment. He wondered what Takenouchi’s son had done for her to be outright complaining like this, but thought better than to ask her directly lest she launched herself into a passionate tirade. 

“Wait here,” requested Takenouchi. She vanished into her house, reemerging some moments later. 

“Give this to Nezuko, and send my regards to her,” she said, handing Sora an ornate wisteria hairpin. His eyes widened in surprise. 

“Takenouchi-san… surely this must have cost a lot?” he wheezed out, only to elicit amused laughter from the woman. 

“Think nothing of it,” she waved off modestly. “A girl deserves a reward for a job well done, after all. Consider it a tip for such a wonderfully made kimono.”

“Alright. Then I’ll give my thanks to you, on her behalf,” he smiled, graciously accepting the hairpin and pocketing the accessory. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Tanjiro! Do you mind giving me a hand with these bundles?”

“I must go now. See you later, Takenouchi-san! And thank you for your generosity!” said Sora, bowing slightly in thanks before hurrying off to help whoever had called for him. 

By the time the basket on his back was completely empty, the sun was about to set. Now that his load was gone, it was easier and reinvigorating to climb up the mountain. Walking uphill with an extra bounce in his steps, Sora couldn’t help but grin broadly at the profits he’d made today. With this amount, they wouldn’t just be able to afford a New Year’s feast, they could even get some small luxuries! 

He hastened his pacing. It was going to get dark soon, so it would be wiser to return home as soon as possible. 

“Hey, Tanjiro!” 

Sora stopped in his tracks. He turned, seeing the face of an old man peeking out of an open window in a run-down looking wooden hut. 

“You aren’t thinking of going back up the mountain at this hour, right?” 

“I am, Saburo-ojiisan,” replied Sora good-naturedly. “Is something the matter?”   


“You better abandon that thought, boy,” warned Saburo darkly. “It’s dangerous. Come here. You can stay here for the night.”

“I’ve got a good nose. I’ll be fine!” argued Sora, his smile still unwavering. “Besides, I promised my siblings that I’ll be home before sunset. If I run, I can still make it before night falls.” 

Saburo hummed thoughtfully. He nodded. “Very well, then. Be careful!”

Sora bid him a quick farewell, and disappeared up the mountain. 

* * *

“Whew! Made it, just in time!”

Sora wiped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his yukata, slinging the basket off of his back as he entered his home. As soon as he opened the door, his siblings barreled into him with excited squeals, wrapping their arms around him. 

“Yay! Nii-san’s back!” cheered Hanako, the first to latch onto Sora. 

“Welcome back, Tanjiro,” greeted Kie. “How was your trip?”

“Good,” grunted Sora in pain, where Shigeru had unintentionally rammed Sora's torso in his excitement. “I managed to sell all the charcoal.”

“Really?” Xion said, her eyes sparkling with joy. “That’s wonderful!”

Sora grinned widely. “Yep! We’ll have more than enough for a feast. Maybe we could celebrate New Year’s in town.”

A disgusting scent invaded Sora’s nostrils. It reeked of rotten eggs, but it was faint, as if it came from somewhere far away. Accompanying the pungent sulfuric smell was the scent of blood. Freshly spilt blood. His smile faltered.

“Mother, do we have eggs?”

“No,” frowned Kie. “We finished them all three days ago.”

“Then wh-” 

The smell spiked into an intolerable intensity. Following it, the deafening crash of a sliding door ripped out of its frame crackled through the room. Terrified, the younger ones began to wail. Rokuta, startled awake by the loud racket, began to cry too. Xion immediately went to comfort them, but it was evident that she too was shaken as well. Although, Sora could still smell the fear from Xion, mingling with the heavier smell of terror from the rest of his family. 

For a split second, he made eye contact with Xion. She pursed her lips defiantly, and slowly she nodded in understanding. Sora loosened up, running to get the hatchet, as Xion ushered everyone else. 

Now armed, Sora followed the sulfuric scent, deducing that the invader was the one who reeked of rotten eggs and blood. He ran to the entrance, trying his best not to gag at the sheer intensity of the revolting stench. It seemed like the smell was at its zenith, and probably would not get any stronger… 

Because the owner of the repulsive stench stood before him. 

Sora stifled a gasp at the man dressed entirely in black, tightening his grip on the hatchet and crouched into his battle stance. At least, he thought it was a man until Sora noticed his inhuman features. His eyes fell onto the man’s hands, and instead of rounded nails, his fingers were tipped with razor-sharp claws. The man shifted, and lowered his gaze. His eyes, a pair of luminous plum red eyes with slitted pupils, stared back into Sora. As if amused by the reincarnated Keyblade Wielder’s attempt at intimidation, the man grinned, revealing pointy fangs.

“W… who are you?” Sora demanded weakly. “You’re not… human, are you?”

“Those hanafuda earrings…” whispered the man throatily, ignoring Sora’s questions, his menacing smile grew wider with each passing second. “So you’re  _ his  _ heir.”

Before he could detect any movement, a foul-smelling hand grabbed him by the throat. By reflex, he dropped his weapon, digging his nails into the hand that held him in a chokehold. Those detestable,  _ inhuman _ red eyes glared at him.

“Pitiful,” the demonic man clucked his tongue in mock disappointment. “Is that what his bloodline had become? How pathetic.”

Sora spat into the man’s eye, hitting straight on target. Yelling out in surprise and disgust, he released Sora from his grip. Seizing his opportunity, the boy scrambled to retrieve his hatchet, right next to the spot where he had been knocked into. Not stopping to think, he swung the hatchet, the blade gouging out a deep grotesque gash into the man’s chest. 

To Sora’s immense horror, the man didn’t even flinch from the attack. Instead, he chuckled. A sinister chuckle that morphed into wrathful bellows.

“You brat!” roared the man, his slitted eyes now glowing brighter from bloodlust and anger. He swiped at Sora, his movements so quick that if Sora hadn’t already ducked beforehand, he would have surely been decapitated. 

Sora cringed in terror when he saw strands of burgundy hair falling to the ground, in the aftermath of his attack. 

A sharp cry pierced the room, momentarily stunning both Sora and the intruder, before it was promptly silenced. The latter, bemused, stared in the direction of the room where Xion and the rest of Kamados were hiding. For Sora, he was stunned from mortification. Pure, primal, raw horror. His eyes widened in desperation. 

_ Please, please! Anything BUT them! _

Sora swung the hatchet a second time, slicing the man’s left hand clean off. The man, in retaliation, backhanded Sora, sending him reeling across the room, and he collided into the sliding door. Unable to withstand the force, the door was knocked down by the sheer force of the blow. Still dazed by the retaliation, Sora could not react when the man held him up by the front of his yukata. 

“Don’t think that little heroic stunt will save your pathetic family,” he hissed, plum eyes flaring. “You all… with those infernal eyes… so bright and red like the sun.”

Sora barely registered Xion’s cry in alarm when the insanely powerful intruder tossed him aside like a ragdoll. Craning his head slightly, the former Keyblade Wielder met Xion’s panicked and angry eyes. Indigo began to bleed into her dark scarlet irises. He slumped against the wooden floor, his vision fading in and out of focus. The aches around his body were so unbearable to the point it took all of his willpower to even remain conscious. 

Weakly, he craned his head, and choked, “Xion, run! He’s no-!”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Sora knew no more. 

* * *

“… an!”

“Nggh…”

“n…an!”

“Sora!” 

Eyes snapping open, Sora sprung up. Still tense from the adrenaline rush, he bunched up his body, ready to brace for impact. Frantically, he scanned the area, trying to look for the intruder… 

“He left, Sora,” said Xion. He flinched badly, but relaxed when he realised it was only Xion. 

Her voice softened in concern and worry. “Are you alright, Sora?”

“Yeah,” sighed the boy, wincing a bit when he stretched his sore body. “Those are going to leave some spectacular bruises.”

An acrid tang filled his nose, causing him to wrinkle his nose. A scent that did not belong to a human, nor an animal or plant. The man from before had a twinge of acridness like this one, but it wasn’t anything like it either. This one had the acridness of some unidentifiable poison combined with a faintly sweet smell of sakura and aster. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but it was jarring enough to act as a makeshift smelling salt. 

His vision cleared up. It was already nightfall, and the only source of light the full moon. In the moonlight, he could see Xion kneeling beside him, worry etched deeply on her face. Her hair, once tied up into a bun, now cascaded as black wavy locks, the ends tinged with vermillion. But that was not the first thing that Sora noticed. Right off the bat, he saw her now pale pink with flecks of indigo, pupilless eyes and the fangs poking through her mouth. The next thing he registered was the sudden, overwhelming stench of blood. It coated the walls, and it seemingly came from their surroundings. 

“Xion…” he weakly rasped, touching her cheeks. Subconsciously, the girl wrapped her hands around his wrist, her claws digging slightly into his skin. “What happened to you? What about…?” 

The ravenette didn’t reply. Instead, her grip on Sora’s hand tightened. Her eyes glistened with tears, and she let-loose an anguished wail. Sora winced slightly at the sting from her claws burying deeper into his skin. 

Upon that sickening realisation, tears pricked at Sora’s eyes. Before he knew it, he was crying with Xion as well, mourning the loss of their second family together. At some point, the ravenette had held him in a tight embrace for comfort. Her touch was ice cold, no longer warm like before, but Sora didn’t care. She was the only family he had left, in his previous life and in this one. 

He swore to never let his friends and family out of sight ever again. 

* * *

Before the crack of dawn, they had given their late family a burial. It was heart-wrenching, to see the lifeless corpses of their loved ones and having to bury them. No words were exchanged between them. Their bodies had been wrapped up in cloth, which was good; Sora didn't know what to think or feel if he saw their glassy eyes and lifeless bloodied faces. 

Just before the sun rose, Xion had retired into the house, leaving Sora outside to mourn by himself.

He didn’t understand why she was giving off the smell of fear when she left. Sora wanted to ask Xion about it, but he didn’t want to leave his family’s graves yet. So, he opted to mutter a sincere prayer to them, hoping that they find tranquillity in their afterlives and vowing to avenge their cruel deaths, before going after his younger sister. 

“Xion?” he called, searching the dark interior of the house for a glimpse of the girl. “Are you here?”

A pale face peeked out from the darkest corner of the room. 

Sora sighed, slumping his shoulders, and walked towards her. “Since when did you like the dark?”

“I never did,” answered Xion honestly, staring at the torn tatami mats fervently and tapping the tips of her claws together almost in a sheepish manner. Sora thought it was adorable. “I just feel an aversion towards sunlight. I don’t know why.”

She turned her face, trying to hide a creeping blush on her cheeks. “And don’t call me ‘adorable’. You’re not Roxas.”

“Wha-?” sputtered Sora, his eyes agape with amazement. “How did you-”

“Wait. You didn’t say that?” 

“I didn’t! I swear!” said Sora, with great vehemence. Then, a sheepish grin spread across his face. “I thought about it.” 

“You  _ thought _ about it?” repeated Xion sceptically, scrunching her eyebrows in disbelief. 

“We could test that theory,” suggested Sora, absent-mindedly putting his hands behind his head. “I think of a word, you say them out loud.”

“Fair enough.”

A couple of rounds later, Xion was getting progressively more shocked and incredulous. Same goes with Sora, although he was a lot worse at hiding his emotions. 

“Okay. What am I thinking right n-”

“Paopu fruit,” answered Xion, a tone of finality in her voice. 

“Correct. Are you convinced yet?”

“Okay, fine. I’m believing it now,” she conceded, having no other option but to agree with Sora’s theory. “So what about you? Can you hear my thoughts?”

“Yeah, I can,” replied Sora, confidently. “You were thinking ‘He probably can’t do it’.”

“That was a fluke,” declared Xion, crossing her arms. “You’re right, but I bet you can’t get them all right.”

“Bring it on,” he grinned. He loved challenges like these. 

The procedure repeats itself, except it was Sora who had to say exactly what Xion was thinking. Like before, he managed to get them all correctly, word for word. 

“As if this day can’t get any crazier,” muttered Xion, rubbing her temples as if to ward off an oncoming migraine. “Our family got slaughtered, I was turned into a monster by whoever-that-was, and now we can hear each other’s thoughts. Did I miss anything?”

“That’s pretty much it,” agreed Sora, crossing his legs, looking thoughtful. “And our life before wasn’t crazy already?”

“Touché.”

Xion tensed up, growling at the snowy path outside of their house. 

“Is something the matter?” questioned Sora, watching her sudden odd behaviour. 

“Someone’s coming,” she growled softly. “It might be  _ that man. _ ”

Sora went outside to get a better sniff, as the house was too saturated with blood for him to pinpoint any scents. A few feet outside, he closed his eyes, and took in a few shallow breaths, trying to find any out-of-place smells. The smell of water, like a river’s, flooded his senses. It gradually got stronger, indicating that whoever having the scent was moving towards them at a rapid pace. He opened his eyes, turned around and shook his head. 

He ran back indoors. “Xion. Do you think you can walk outside right now?”

“But…” 

“It’s pretty cloudy, so there won’t be a lot of sun,” explained Sora, offering her a hand. “The moment it gets sunny, you can run back here, alright?”

“I suppose that’s fine,” she said hesitantly, slowly exiting her dark shelter. Sora squeezed her hand reassuringly, gently leading her by the hand. 

By the time Sora had managed to coax Xion out into the open, the barest silhouette of a figure running towards them could be seen in the distance. Xion’s grip tightened, anxiety permeating from her. She didn’t look very comfortable being out in the open. Sora frowned, was it because of her sudden heliophobia or because of their unexpected visitor? 

He - the man both Xion and Sora sensed - was finally close enough for them to get a look at his appearance. He looked to be about nineteen, with messy black hair tied into a low ponytail. Draped over his shoulders was an oddly patterned haori, one side was a solid red and the other had a chequered pattern of green, orange and yellow. Underneath the haori, the young man wore what looked to be a military uniform of some sort, with a katana strapped to his waist. His pacing never slowed down; if anything, he hastened his steps the moment he saw them, one hand on the hilt of his sword as if he was about to draw his weapon.

Without any warning, this mysterious swordsman lunged at them, his sword drawn and aiming for Xion’s neck. Out of pure instinct, she pulled Sora along with her as she dodged the fatal blow. His dark blue eyes widened slightly. It hit the snowy ground, the force of the missed attack kicking up a large cloud of snow. 

“What the…” gasped Sora, still stunned by the uncalled belligerence from the swordsman. Loud growlings snapped him out of it, prompting him to spare a glance at his sole surviving family member.

Beside him, Xion growled, crouching on the ground like a wild beast on the verge of attacking. Her pupils narrowed into cat-like slits, the indigo flecks in her eyes were now almost non-existent. Veins bulged from her forehead, and her claws seemed to be sharper than the last time he saw them. No audible thoughts came from her, only the echoes of feral instincts were present in her mind.

“Why did you attack her?” yelled Sora, finally recovering his wits to speak. “She didn’t do anything!”

“I’m a demon slayer,” said the swordsman flatly. “Killing demons is my job. So of course, that includes taking her head.”

“No! You got it all wrong!” Sora protested vehemently, placing an arm protectively before the feral Xion. “X-Nezuko isn’t the one that killed our family!”

“So she just got turned, did she?” the swordsman pointed his blade in Xion’s direction, the blue metal glinting menacingly. “Then I better put her down before she eats anyone.”

“No! I won’t let you!” cried Sora, placing himself in between the swordsman and Xion. “She’s never harmed anyone, I swear! Don’t do it!”

“…Why do you cover for her?” asked the swordsman, his face devoid of all emotion. “You do realise that she is now a man-eating demon?”

“She’s my sister! She’s all I have left!” declared Sora, not budging from his position. “If she is a man-eating demon, she would have eaten me when I was unconscious! But she didn’t, and she wasn’t mindless until you came!”

“Don’t delude yourself!” he yelled, apparently tired from Sora’s attempts to dissuade him. 

He lunged, sword poised in the offensive. Behind him, Xion growls grew louder and more agitated. She pushed Sora out of the way, and pounced onto the swordsman, seemingly wanting to engage him in combat. The former Guardian’s eyes widened, barely reaching his arms out just in time to restrain Xion back, pulling her out of the sword’s way. 

“Snap out of it, Nezuko!” Sora cried desperately, doing his best to restrain his sole surviving family member. She struggled, clawing at the swordsman’s direction, snarling and growling like an angry beast.

_ She’s not responding… maybe she doesn’t react to the name Nezuko right now? _

“Xion!” he yelled out, praying with every fibre of his being that it would somehow work. “I know you’re in there! Fight it! Don’t let the darkness take you!”

No response. Xion continued to struggle against Sora’s grip. Almost delirious, he wrapped the feral demon in a tight embrace, crying out her original name and pleading for her to snap out of her aggression. 

Sora gasped when he felt a gust of wind, and a multicoloured blur. The next thing he knew, Xion was no longer in his grasp. Panicked, he swivelled, only to see her growling and flailing in the swordsman’s hands. 

“No!” 

“Give up,” said the swordsman ruthlessly. “She might not eat you today, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t the next day… or the day after. A person who becomes a demon can never go back.”

Sora didn’t say anything, lowering his head, fist trembling with unbridled emotion. This whole fiasco… it reminded him of the times where he had to fight the Heartless. If he uses this analogy to recount this incident, Xion becoming a demon would be the equivalent of her becoming a Heartless, and the swordsman would be a Wielder trying to do his duty. But Xion, even after turning into a demon, still behaved like a human… just like when he sacrificed himself to release Kairi’s heart and was transformed into a Shadow that still retained some of his sense of self. 

In that case, there might still be hope for Xion to regain her humanity. 

“You’re wrong!” declared Sora, eyes blazing with resolve. “I’ll find a way to cure her!”

With that bold declaration, he felt Xion’s thoughts entering his mind. Not the gibberish that came from bestial instincts, but rather coherent, intelligent thoughts. While ecstatic that she had regained herself, he wasted no time in mentally transmitting a half-baked plan to take down this swordsman holding her captive. 

_ “Xion! Can you distract him? If you can, try to keep him still in one spot.”  _

_ “What are you-” _

_ “Just do it! When I give you the signal, you sneak away as quietly as possible.” _

_ “That’s your plan?! …Never mind. Consider it done.”  _

All of it happened in a brief moment. Outwardly still feral, Xion sent a roundhouse kick with a guttural snarl, freeing herself from his grip. Taking the opportunity of the swordsman’s distraction, Sora hastily ran back inside the house to retrieve his hatchet, and then hurrying back out through the backdoor. He breathed a small sigh in relief when he saw that Xion was somehow managing to get the plan on track. Although, it looked as if the blue-eyed swordsman was a going to be a bit too much for Xion to handle. A couple of times, Sora had seen his blue sword coming close to impaling her, only to see that Xion somehow managing to evade them at the last second. 

Picking up speed, he tossed the hatchet, aiming for the swordsman’s head. Right at the same time, Sora rushed out of the woods with a crude battle cry, empty hands drawn behind him as if he was holding the hatchet. He and Xion’s eyes met. Nodding subtly, she silently ran away, after ensuring that the swordsman’s attention was completely on Sora. 

Twisting his nose in disdain, the swordsman wasted no time in slamming the hilt of his sword into Sora’s back, knocking him out instantly. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw that Sora was actually unarmed, and lifting his head just in time to see a flipping hatchet heading straight for his head. He evaded the flying the weapon with a mere tilt of his head, despite being disoriented by the string of events. Then, a realisation occurred.

_ Where is that demon girl? _

His unspoken question was immediately answered when he saw Xion reemerging from the woods surrounding them, heading straight for the unconscious Sora. At first, he thought the demon was about to eat him. So without any hesitation, the swordsman ran towards them, ready to intercept her and then kill her for good. 

He definitely wasn’t prepared to see what came next. 

“Nii-san!” she exclaimed, rushing towards him and covering his inert form protectively with her own body. She glared at him, as fierce as a mother wolf protecting her cubs, with her now pupilless eyes, holding her brother closer. 

The swordsman took a step closer. Xion bared her fangs in warning, her grip on her brother tighter. The former stood there, motionless and stunned. The expression didn’t last long. As quickly as it appeared, it was wiped clean off of his face. They both stared at each other, before the swordsman vanishing in a blur and reappearing behind Xion, knocking her out with a chop to the neck.

* * *

Sora woke up from his second coma in a row, to see Xion unconscious next to him wrapped in a thick brown robe and a bamboo muzzle around her mouth. While relieved that she was alive and well, it was short-lived as he quickly noticed the swordsman watching them. Paranoid, Sora held Xion close to his chest, afraid that he would try anything. 

The swordsman instead crossed his arms. “You’re awake already.”

It was a statement, not a question. Sora remained silent, warily watching his every movement. 

“Go see an old man named Sakonji Urokodaki who lives at the bottom of Mt. Sagiri,” instructed the swordsman sternly, his face stoic as ever. “Tell him that  _ Giyuu Tomioka _ sent you.” 

_ So your name’s Giyuu,  _ thought Sora idly.  _ In a weird way, you remind me of Riku… Was he ever this aloof? _

“Your sister should be fine because it’s cloudy now,” added Giyuu. “Never expose her to direct sunlight.”

He vanished in a blur, not even bothering to hear Sora’s reply. The boy just stared blankly at the spot where Giyuu once stood, not noticing that Xion was stirring in his arms. It was only after she made some particularly loud grunts did he realise she had woken up. 

“Ah, you’re up!” 

_ “Sora, why am I wearing a muzzle?”  _ asked Xion, picking irritably at her new piece of accessory with a claw. 

“I think Giyuu was the one who put in on,” shrugged Sora. “Probably some extra insurance that you wouldn’t eat anyone.”

_ “That guy has a name? Who would’ve thought?”  _ remarked Xion sarcastically, still resentful of the slayer’s actions.  _ “And why would I even eat when my stomach feels as if someone had sewn a large rock in it?” _

“Well, there’s one worry off…” he laughed nervously, before sobering up. “Listen. We’ll be leaving for Mt. Sagiri.”

_ “Right now?” _

“Unless you don’t have things you want to pack?”

Some moments later, they went back in to pack up. As for Xion, now that she was something inhuman, she didn’t have anything that would be useful for her, so she changed her clothes instead. Slinging all of their belongings into a bundle, they left their mountain home, never looking back. 


	4. Every Journey Begins With An Encounter

“Oh dear, the sun’s coming out.”

That was the comment, so casually thrown around, that sent Xion into a panicked frenzy. Like a startled horse, she immediately bolted towards the nearest shade, dragging along a screaming Sora along with her. Despite his protests, the ravenette’s pace never faltered, too caught up in her instinctual fear for sunlight to even notice him. It was only after they were deep inside a small cave did she finally come back to her senses. 

Well, after  _ Xion  _ was in the shallow cave. Sora, being too tall as he was standing at full height, had his head unceremoniously smashed against the coarse rocky wall. The newly born demoness instinctively released her grip on his wrist, leaving him to roll on the ground groaning and clutching his aching forehead, whilst she, either ignoring or oblivious to her blunder, hurriedly ran towards the end of the tunnel. 

Sora raised an eyebrow. The burrow was far too low for Xion to walk through at full-height, yet there she was, standing inside with the tip of her head barely grazing the ceiling. Part of him wondered if she had shrunk, or an error in his judgement. 

_ “Sorry, nii-san,”  _ she apologised with a sympathetic grimace.  _ “I really,  _ **_really_ ** _ , don’t like the sun.” _

“I’ve noticed,” remarked Sora dryly, crossing his arms in amusement. “Giyuu did say something about not exposing you to direct sunlight.”

The boy cocked his head to the side, deep in thought. “Still… I want to keep travelling during the day. It's a good waste of time and energy, not to mention dangerous, for us to travel exclusively at night.”

_ “Maybe find something to carry me in?”  _ suggested Xion, her irises glowing slightly in the dark. 

“Good idea!” Sora smacked a fist into an open palm, grinning. “I think I saw a few farmers working in their fields when we ran past them. Well, more like you running, but still…”

_ “I’ll wait here,”  _ she blurted, settling down at the very end of the burrow. 

Sora deflated visibly at Xion’s unusually terse behaviour. Granted, she’s probably still hung over her unwilling transformation into something inhuman, which was her equivalent of reopening old wounds and then rubbing salt into them. Chances are, this fiasco brought up some of her painful memories of when she was a mere “puppet”, in the days of Organisation XIII and its successor the Real Organisation. And it was after Xion could finally be reborn as a human, too… 

He shook his head, ridding himself of his daydreams, and retraced his steps to the farmland.

* * *

“Excuse me, do you have a large basket to spare?” 

“Hmm?” A farmer with a cloth wrapped around his head glanced up at Sora, his hoe stopping mid-swing. He planted the hoe into the ground, leaning his weight on the top of the handle. “A large basket, you say?”

“Yes,” nodded Sora. “It’s urgent.”

“Well…” he trailed off, thoughtfully. “We have a large basket, but there’s a hole in it, so we dumped in next to the bamboo grove over there.”

He pointed over to the bamboo grove a stone’s throw away from the fields. 

“You can have it, if you wish,” added the man. “You’ll be doing us a service if you do.”

He perked as another question popping in his mind. “Oh, is it fine if I take some bamboo and straw as well?” 

“Take as much as you need.”

“Thank you,” he exclaimed with much gratitude, bowing slightly. “Let me pay you for the basket.”

“Whatever for?” laughed the farmer, graciously waving off Sora’s generous offer. “It’s a broken basket. Just take it. No payment needed.”

“At least you can get a new basket with it, right?” retorted Sora, a cheeky grin on his face. “Besides, it’s only a few coins. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I took something without paying for it, even if it was given to me.”

“Aren’t you a stubborn kid? We don’t w-”

Before he could even complete the sentence, Sora had already slapped a few bronze coins into his open palm, yelling indecipherable mumblings about being in a hurry and then apologising profusely for something no one understood. Not even waiting to hear the farmer’s response, the boy dashed off towards the bamboo grove, hatchet in hand. 

Armed with the materials ten minutes later, Sora hurried back to the burrow, wanting to check on Xion. To his immense relief, the tunnel was deep enough to keep most of the sunlight out of Xion’s hiding spot. She was still sitting there, wearing a serene expression of her face, her pinkish-indigo eyes illuminating like beacons in the quasi-darkness. The ravenette perked a little when she saw Sora returning. 

_ “You’re back!”  _ she remarked, a tinge of relief washing her words.  _ “I thought you would take all day!”  _

“Have some faith in me, Xion,” retaliated Sora in jest, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “But it’s going to take a while to patch up the basket.”

_ “That’s fine. I can wait.” _

Without saying another word, the eldest Kamado set to work, cutting the bamboo into strips and then expertly weaving a secure cage-like structure around the broken basket. Soon, he finished patching up the old basket. Taking a moment to savour his work, Sora smiled in satisfaction, wiping sweat off his brow with a sleeve, and brought it inside the burrow. 

“Do you think you can fit in here?” he asked, showing Xion the basket. 

The demoness scrutinised the basket and then glanced at herself. A moment later, she shook her head. 

Sora let out a sigh, scratching his head. “Ah well, that’s a bummer.”

_ Wait… if she can become smaller, _ realised Sora, recalling his supposed error in judgement after seeing Xion entering the burrow with no trouble while he had to crawl on his knees. 

_ “Get smaller?”  _ repeated Xion, in equal parts bewilderment and confusion.  _ “Aren’t I the same size as before?” _

“Xion, you wouldn’t be able to enter this burrow standing straight in your normal height,” explained Sora. “I’m only an inch taller than you. But here you are, standing at full height inside a burrow with a height that’s barely reaching my shoulders.”

_ “Did I?”  _ blurted Xion, now staring at herself with undisguised wonder. 

“So, do you think you can… replicate that?”

_ “I can try,”  _ said Xion hesitantly, staring at the basket blankly.

She scrunched up her face, mustering as much concentration as she could. Sora gasped at what came after. It was as if someone had cast Mini on Xion; that was the only analogy the redhead could think of. Just previously, the ravenette was at least two heads taller than the basket. In a blink of an eye, Xion had shrunken herself, her height now matching her container’s. 

If Sora didn’t know any better, he would have said his sister had somehow de-aged. 

“Amazing, Xion!” he praised, rubbing the shrunken girl’s head affectionately. 

Xion spluttered a little at the unexpected display of affection. She was embarrassed but enjoyed the affectionate gesture, as Sora could tell from the fluctuations in her scent. Her cheeks dusted pink, and she turned her head frantically to the side. 

_ “Let’s… let’s just go,”  _ she stuttered, eager to change the subject. Sora didn’t know it was possible to stammer in a telepathic conversation. 

“Fair enough,” he concurred, lifting Xion up by her armpits and gently settling her into the basket. 

As soon as Sora saw that she had gotten comfortable inside, he wrapped the basket with a cloth, tying the ends securely so to ensure no sunlight could peek through. After he finished, he gave it a pat, hoisted the basket, slung them over his shoulders, and made his way out of the burrow to resume their journey to Mt. Sagiri. 

* * *

“You’re going to Mt. Sagiri?” commented a woman, deeply surprised. “At this hour? And with that big luggage on your back, no less?”

The sun was setting already, but Sora had no intention of stopping to seek refuge for a night’s rest. He knows, the woman who stopped him meant well, yet he had no other option but to move. The sooner they get to this Urokodaki’s place, the better. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Sora replied dutifully, nodding. “I have to get there as quickly as possible. Do you know where it is?”

“To get to Mt. Sagiri, you must cross that mountain first,” answered the woman, worry etched onto her features. “But people disappear on that mountain, especially if they’re night travellers.”

_ So that mountain’s infested by demons,  _ noted Sora. 

_ “We’ll have to be careful, then,”  _ piped Xion. 

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he reassured, bowing in thanks. “I’ll be extra careful. Thank you very much for your concern and for your directions.”

Adjusting the weight of the basket, Sora turned back to the woman to wave her farewell. Behind him, she yelled out her well-wishes, warning him yet again about the disappearances and to watch his steps. 

After walking for some time, they both made decent progress. As soon as the sun set completely, Sora immediately let Xion out of the basket to give a chance to stretch her legs. Upon touching the ground, the demoness instantly regrew back to her normal size, lazily stretching herself while letting out pleased hums. 

_ “I seriously thought my legs were going to fall off!”  _ she joked, now proceeding to relieve her lower limbs from numbness.

Sora smiled amusedly, watching her taking some time off to stretch. Some minutes later, she cheerfully clapped her hands together. 

_ “All right. Let’s continue!” _

He nodded silently, taking her by the hand and continuing down the moonlit dirt path that cut across a thick forest. The basket on his back was considerably lighter, now that it was empty, allowing them to move faster than in the daytime. Xion being enthusiastic about finally getting to move her feet also sped up their journey, although it left Sora winded. 

“Xion…” he gasped, after catching up to her for the tenth time. “Don’t just take off like that without warning! I’m not as fast as you.”

He didn’t speak a word after. Instead, he gasped wildly, trying to get as much air into his lungs. Xion looked as if she found pleasure in Sora’s exhaustion. 

_ “What’s wrong, nii-san?”  _ she teased, a cheeky glint in her luminescent eyes.  _ “Winded already?” _

“Thanks to you,” retorted Sora, playfully, still inhaling in copious amounts of oxygen. He glanced up and pointed towards a building in the distance. “Look. There’s a waystation. We’ll rest there.”

Xion nodded in agreement, partially dropping her playful attitude. Taking Sora by the hand, they walked to the waystation, this time at an equal pace. A bloody scent mixed with an acrid, sulfuric tang invaded his nostrils when they approached. Involuntarily, he stilled, chills going down his spine. The demoness, seeing her brother’s blanching face, stopped. 

_ “Is something the matter, Sora?”  _ she asked, cocking her head to the side, and her eyes furrowed in concern.  _ “You’re as pale as a ghost.” _

“I smell blood, and a… demon,” he said, adding the last part with much reluctance. “A demon’s just killed.”

Xion let loose a soft snarl, veins beginning to bulge at her forehead. Sora placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, calming her down somewhat. 

“Don’t be rash,” he reminded her, eyes twinkling with gentleness. “It might only be a traveller who injured themselves.” 

_ “You’re right,”  _ sighed Xion, relaxing her aggressive posture.  _ “But if I see a demon in there, I’m kicking his head off.” _

“Since when are you so violent?” Sora commented idly, shaking his head in bemusement. 

They quickly headed towards the blood-scented waystation, propelled by the sense of urgency that they felt from the building. Xion was the first to enter, literally kicking down the wooden doors, her demonic traits almost fully manifesting. It was fortunate that she seemed to be better at retaining her sense of self now, to Sora’s relief.

Although his horror quickly overtook his relief, courtesy of witnessing Xion kicking down the doors without a second thought.

Sora was about to admonish her for her actions until he saw a silhouette munching on something. That something was a piece of meat that suspiciously looked like a detached, bloody human arm. He froze, taking another look at the grotesque sight. 

There was only moonlight illuminating the bloodied room, but the dim lighting was more than enough for Sora. Slumped against the walls, or lying limp on the floor, were what seemed to be three corpses. One adult male, an adult female, and a boy who couldn’t be any older than himself. Sora assumed that these people were a family travelling when this disaster befell them. All of them had grievous injuries, mostly centred around their torso region, painting the walls and the flooring with their darkened blood. 

And crouching beside the female corpse was a hideous demon with beady black eyes and a messy mop of stringy black hair. Veins perpetually bulged from its forehead, not unlike Xion’s whenever she turned feral. Its mouth was dripping with blood, its maw opened as if it were about to take another chomp at the corpse’s arm when they barged in. The demon glared at them, obviously not at all pleased that its mealtime was so rudely interrupted by two brats. 

Without warning, Xion launched herself at the demon, claws fully unsheathed. She latched her claws into the demon’s neck, pushing it onto its back and holding it in a tight chokehold. Black ichor leaked out of where Xion’s claws had punctured through its alabaster white skin. 

“What the-” spluttered the demon, still reeling in shock. 

Xion grunted furiously through her muzzle, tightening her hold around the demon, as she adjusted her position, forcing the demon into a kneel and wrapping her arm firmly around its eyes, exposing its bare neck. She turned her blazing eyes towards Sora, signalling him to stop gawking and decapitate the damned demon. Snapped out of his horrified amazement, the boy quickly armed himself with his hatchet. 

Doing his best not to falter, he swung the hatchet with as much strength he could muster in that brief period, feeling the sharpened edge slice through flesh and bone with a sickening squelch. Xion disposed of the head by running to the exit, head in hand, and quickly hurling it outside as soon as it separated from its body. The recently beheaded demon screamed in outrage, its head sent flying unceremoniously. It rolled onto the dirt path, its face facing the entrance of the destroyed waystation.

“What are a human and a demon doing together?” the beheaded head shrieked. “And you, demon! Have you no sense of dignity, working with a lowly human like him!”

Creaking noises resounded from behind Sora. Instinctively, he turned, and to his growing mortification, the headless body was moving on its own! The once bloody stump where its head once was, now had a layer of newly regenerated skin growing over it, leaving no traces of its injury save for the streaks of dried blood along with its stump of a neck. Its arms flailed and tapped its surroundings experimentally, trying to regain its bearings as it shakily rose to full height, and it made a wild lunge for Sora.

He gasped and stood rooted to the spot, almost dropping his hatchet from shock and disgust. Xion seemed to be unaffected by the grisly sight. If anything, she looked annoyed that it refused to stay down. Letting out a frustrated groan, she delivered a vicious kick on the headless body. Sora yelped in alarm, barely dodging the body at the last minute as it was sent flying across the defiled room and out into the open air. It came to a stop a few feet away from the severed head, motionless. 

The head looked shaken by this turn of events. “Wh-what are you?! Why are you so strong? Is it because of that boy?! I bet he gave you plenty of his blood!”

_ “Don’t make such ridiculous assumptions!”  _ screamed Xion, disgusted and furious at such an implication.  _ “I would never hurt, much less eat, another human being!” _

That was what Sora heard. To the demon, all it could see were Xion making unintelligible muffled noises and gesturing angrily at him. The head scoffed, sneering menacingly at the demoness. 

“Not that it matters,” it dismissed, a flippant smirk adorning his horrifying face. “This is only a minor injury to me. I’ll heal in no time. Watch this!”

The body shivered, slowly pushing itself back up. That demon’s smirk grew wider when his body plopped the head right back at where it belonged. Upon contact, skin regenerated over the gap, stitching the two severed appendages back together. By then, its smirk now a grin that radiated so much smugness that it made both siblings have the sudden overwhelming urge to wipe it off its face. 

Sora growled inaudibly under his breath, gripping his hatchet tighter. Xion made no attempt to conceal her aggression. Veins now bulged across her limbs, she was now growling bestially. The former Keyblade Wielder cursed internally; his companion had gone into full feral mode now, there’s no going back until they defeat this demon for good. At least, that was what he hoped for. 

“We’re going to separate his head for good this time,” he muttered harshly. Beside him, Xion grunted in agreement. Perhaps she wasn’t as feral as her appearance would suggest. 

The feral demoness was the first to make the lunge. Sora followed closely behind her, raising his hatchet. Right off the bat, she targeted the demon’s neck; her sharpened claws shot towards the appendage. Their demon opponent grinned arrogantly, chuckling hoarsely. 

“I don’t think so, girlie,” it spat, thrusting out an open palm to intercept the lunge. 

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw it. Desperately, she twisted her body, trying to manoeuvre herself out of the palm’s range. Unfortunately, Xion was travelling too quickly to avoid the interception in time. Her face landed squarely in the foul entity’s vice grip, mercilessly hoisted up and leaving her flailing futilely for freedom. 

“Not so powerful now, are you?” sneered the demon, a sadistic grin on its grinning sadistically. Xion, obviously, could not respond verbally. Instead, she flailed and screamed through her muzzle. 

Meanwhile, a dreadful mortification rose within Sora, seeing Xion being incapacitated so easily in a single move. The boy froze for a second, trying to think of an apt solution, until he realised that the demon had a glaring weakness: arrogance. Their opponent had the false assumption that his victory was certain because of its superior physiological capabilities. As of now, the black-haired demon had foolishly occupied itself with gloating incessantly. That was his opportunity to strike!

Sneaking from behind, he smashed his head onto the demon, eliciting a surprised yelp from it and causing it to release his grip on Xion. Without a shred of hesitation, Sora chopped the head off, just as Xion’s kick collided powerfully with the demon’s torso, dealing the final blow needed to sever the head fully, sending the rest of the body reeling. 

As expected, the severed appendage detached itself, but the demon proved to have a few more tricks up its sleeve. The locks on the severed head gained a life of their own, wrapping themselves firmly onto the hatchet’s handle. Using its semi-sentient locks, the demon swivelled itself to meet his ambusher face to face, its beady black eyes glinting malevolently. 

“You think you’re so clever, huh?” mocked the demon, glaring at Sora like a cobra ready to strike. “Well, guess what? It’s pointless!” 

It let out a pained yell, and two arms spontaneously sprouted from the sides of his head. With his newly gained limbs, the demon attempted to reach out to Sora’s neck, full intent on throttling him. Panicking, Sora threw the hatchet, along with the still-alive-and-well demon attached to it. The blade embedded into the trunk of some tree unfortunate enough to be in the throw’s trajectory, trapping the demon head between the tree and the hatchet. 

It screamed bloody murder, flailing its stubby arms about in its pitiful attempts to free itself, only to realise its reach was too short for it to dislodge the hatchet out of the tree. However, Sora had no time to stand by and gawk at the surreal scene. As soon as his opponent was thrown off, he found himself quickly wrapped up in another conundrum, in the form of Xion’s pained grunts and the sounds of claws digging into flesh. 

Now weaponless, Sora could not directly jump into the midst of the conflict. He frantically scoured his surroundings for an adequate replacement. A large rock caught his eye. It wasn’t too large for him to hold, and it looked heavy enough to deal some decent amounts of damage. With haste, he picked up the rock with both hands, and ran towards the headless body with the rock raised high. 

Xion, luckily, noticed his arrival and immediately understood what he was trying to accomplish. She sidestepped, evading an incoming slash from her opponent and pushed the headless body down, disorienting it for a moment as it struggled to maintain its balance. Seizing the opportunity, Sora ran forwards and bashed the rock at the still bloodied stump with the last ounce of his strength. 

The body seized, as if a potent lightning spell had electrocuted it, before it fell to the ground as limp as a ragdoll. In the background, they could hear agonised screeches could, before silence abruptly took over. 

A tense silence descended on them, broken only by heavy pants from an exhausted Sora and Xion’s low guttural growls as she tried to rein in her feral nature. Then Sora broke the silence by keeling over with exhaustion, groaning. Alarmed, Xion ran over to him, staring at him concernedly. 

_ “Are you alright?”  _

“I’ll live,” he rasped out, still huffing. “Is that demon dead yet?”

Xion took a moment to check on their defeated opponent.  _ “Don’t think so. I think he’s only unconscious.” _

“Damn,” cursed Sora. 

_ “Decapitation doesn’t work on him,”  _ mused Xion, tapping her chin thoughtfully.  _ “So using a knife is out of the question. What about bashing his head into a bloody pulp?” _

“That might work,” said Sora. He slowly pushed himself up, having recovered back some of his strength. “But I want to give those poor people a burial first. The demon can wait.”

“No need,” an elderly voice spoke suddenly. “I’ve already buried them.”

Both Sora and Xion jumped at the sudden appearance of an unexpected visitor. The latter, fortunately, did not go full feral, so whoever it was didn’t harbour any intentions to harm either of them. A man dressed in blue robes stepped out from behind the waystation, his movements calculated and dignified, not unlike a seasoned warrior. A red tengu mask concealed his face, but from his raspy voice and his silver hair, they both could tell that he was rather old. 

_ What the… I couldn’t smell a thing from him! _ , thought Sora in astonishment.  _ And his footsteps… wow! Not a single sound! _

_ “He must be a very skilled warrior,”  _ remarked Xion, mesmerised by the elderly man’s movements.

“Well?” demanded the masked man, gazing at Sora expectantly. “Are you not going to finish the job?”

“O-of course,” stammered Sora, hastily picking himself up from the ground. 

The rock which he just used to bash the demon’s body with found itself back in use, in Sora’s hands. By the time he got to the demon, it had already woken up and stared at his soon-to-be murderer with fearful eyes. It did not scream, or made any other sound. It only looked up at Sora, its eyes so full of human emotion, pleading for mercy. 

For a moment, Sora considered showing it some mercy. It might have been a victim, just like Xion, he thought. As soon as that traitorous thought crossed his mind, his rationality and his own sense of justice squashed it, reasoning that it was a menace to humanity, unlike his sister, so he must eliminate it at all costs. But… that still doesn’t mean Sora couldn’t wish the best for him. 

“Sorry,” he apologised to the demon, his countenance softening. “But I have to end you. Please forgive me.”

It offered no response, but the emotions shining in its eyes were more than enough. Defiance, anger, and a myriad of negative emotions reflected in its inhuman eyes, and it flailed its arms again in a last-ditch attempt for self-preservation. Ignoring it, Sora squeezed his eyes shut and pounded the head, not stopping until the last of its screams faded into obscurity. 

Exhausted, he dropped the bloodied rock, falling onto his behind with a drained groan. 

The masked man stared at him. Even though the mask he wore concealed his features, Sora could tell that he was staring at him sternly and with much disapproval. 

Wordlessly, Sora gulped slightly and stood back up onto his feet, staggering. In his peripheral vision, he could see the first light of dawn appearing over the eastern horizon. He flinched a little at the sight; it was dawn already? Just for how long have they been fighting that demon? 

He scoured his surroundings, but Xion was nowhere in sight. She must have retreated indoors as soon as she sensed the sunrise, he reasoned. He turned his gaze back at the mysterious masked individual. 

“Um, may I ask who you are?” he asked gingerly.

“I am Sakonji Urokodaki,” introduced the man, sending a piercing gaze at Sora’s direction. “Are you the one Giyuu told me about?”

“Y-yes!” replied Sora, involuntarily straightening his slack posture. “I’m Tanjiro Kamado, and my sister’s name is Nezuko.”

To be honest, it still felt weird to Sora to use this alias, even though he had lived being called by that name for years. But, until he found the rest of his fellow Keyblade Wielders, he had sworn to keep his true name under wraps. The only one who knew of his peculiar background was Xion, under the name Nezuko and his sister in this lifetime.

“… Tell me, Tanjiro,” said Urokodaki, his voice even and calm like water in a tranquil lake. “What will you do if your sister eats someone?”

“She would never!” proclaimed Sora, with much vehemence. Subconsciously, his posture turned into one of aggression. “I will never let her! Who do you think you are, saying things like that?!”

Without warning, Urokodaki delivered a harsh slap across Sora’s face. 

“Too emotional,” he harshly rebuked, and if he were without his mask, Sora was certain the elderly veteran was glaring at him witheringly. “You give in too easily to your emotions, Tanjiro! There are two things that you must do if she does eat a person: kill her and then commit seppuku! That is what it meant to travel with your sister who has become a demon!” 

He paused, letting the pregnant silence drag out. 

“However,” continued Urokodaki, ignoring the defiant gaze in Sora’s eyes. “As you so passionately proclaimed, it is your  _ duty  _ to ensure your sister never harms an innocent. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” replied Sora, confidence lacing his tone. 

“Good,” the masked veteran nodded. “I will test you to see if you have what it takes to be a demon slayer swordsman.”

He gestured to the waystation. “Shoulder your sister and come with me.”

Sora obliged, disappearing inside the waystation to retrieve Xion and the basket. It was convenient for him to see that she was already inside the basket; the cloth draped over her head. She shot him a glance, reeking slightly of sympathy, and quietly shrunk deeper into the basket. He didn’t say a word about it, opting to return the favour by wrapping the cloth around the basket and slinging it over his shoulders. 

* * *

_ Seriously, just how fit is this man?! I can’t believe he’s  _ **_decades_ ** _ older than me! _

Sora stared incredulously at Urokodaki, hands on his knees and winded. Thank goodness they’ve reached their destination! Throughout their journey, he couldn’t believe that this old geezer had travelled not only at a quicker pace than himself, but with such amazing stamina that far surpassed his own. It was a monumental challenge just to keep Urokodaki within his sight. As for keeping up with him… let’s just say Sora had given up on that impossible feat very early on. 

At least he had a quick moment of reprieve before Urokodaki made him do any more strenuous activities. Sora wouldn’t put it past him to do that.

“Climb up the mountain,” Urokodaki stated tersely, not sparing Sora a glance. “The test begins now.”

Sora offered no visible reaction, too exhausted to even do so. However, it still didn’t stop him from blanching with horror upon hearing that little bombshell. Shakily, he unslung the basket off his back and set it beside the entrance of Urokodaki’s humble-looking abode. From within, Xion gave him an encouraging hum, along with an equally motivating telepathic message. He smiled subtly, before turning his full attention to the imminent task at hand. 

Normally, a task like climbing up a mountain would be a cinch for Sora, who could proudly say that he was born and bred up in the mountains. At least, that was what he imagined the original Tanjiro would say. However, his exhaustion from previous endeavours compounded with that violent confrontation, along with the wispy thin air of the high altitude just made this a whole new level of which the likes he had never experienced before in this life. 

Part of him wondered if his weakness stemmed from his Keyblade abandoning him. After all, the legends did say that the legendary weapon gave its mysterious abilities. Well, no time to dwell on that. Kingdom Key would not return to him either way, no matter how much he complained. 

Suddenly, Urokodaki came to a stop. He turned, facing Sora, his tengu mask now appearing to be sterner and calculating with each passing second. 

“Now, you must descend the mountain before sunrise,” he instructed, voice impassive and commanding. 

Before Sora could even come up with a response, Urokodaki vanished into the mist around the mountain, leaving Sora to his own devices, gawking dumbly at where the man had previously stood. 

_ That was the test?  _ He thought incredulously.  _ Yeah, right. As if it’ll be this easy. _

Still, better to practice caution as he traversed down the mountain, decided Sora. If he were Urokodaki, he would definitely set up a test that examined the full capabilities of his potential students. So what could fulfil that requirement in a misty mountain, and the subject a boy with a nose keener than a dog’s? Traps, perhaps?

Well, that seemed adequate. It would be difficult to detect a well-set one even in clear weather. And in the thick mist, no less? That was virtually impossible. Especially since he was under a time limit, in which he would have no choice but to ignore the triggers and dodge the traps themselves as they sprung on him. Even if he could detect the traps by picking up on the faint human scent left behind, it wasn’t possible to evade all of them, especially with his current finesse. 

Sora let out a resigned sigh. If he were to find a cure for Xion, he had no other choice but to go along with it. Taking a few more breaths to steady himself, he took off, running as fast as he could, with his nose leading the way. 

He managed to avoid the first few traps, if only by a hair’s breadth. His foot kicked against a thin wire that caused its respective trap to fire out pebbles, all the projectiles fortunately only nipped at his exposed skin rather than scoring a direct hit. The next trap, a pitfall, was slightly trickier than its predecessor. Still, he counted himself lucky that he caught himself over the edge. 

The traps were hard to detect and avoiding them proved to be even more difficult the further Sora progressed. They weren’t lethal, but they were definitely nuisances and hindrances. Not to mention very excruciating whenever he got careless. A few times, Sora found himself rammed into trees or onto the ground by heavy logs, and then got himself whipped by some buried bamboo stalks that he failed to foresee… which then set off even more traps in a horrible case of the domino effect. 

Although he was almost blinded by pain, Sora never slackened his pace. A single-minded goal drove him to press on despite his sufferings, fueled by the hurtful memories of leaving everything he had behind when he rashly abused the Power of Waking. Xion was the first friend that he reunited with; there was no way he would lose her like that! 

The cold air burned inside his lungs, scorching his delicate windpipe as he drew in more oxygen. Ignoring the pain, he raced down the mountain as if his life depended on it, continuing to endure the battering from the ruthless traps. He didn’t know how many times, or how loud, had he yelled out from the sheer agony that speared through his system. All he knew that it was at least frequent enough to cause his throat to become hoarse and painful. 

He didn’t care about anything else any longer. All it mattered, right there and then, was that he returned before sunrise. By hook, or by crook!

* * *

In Urokodaki’s hut, Xion watched the entrance with unblinking eyes. In the background, the wizened veteran was cooking over a fire, occasionally peering over to the window to check the time. 

The retired slayer was very much aware of Xion’s anxiety, despite his lack of response to it. Whenever he checked on her, she almost looked as if she was ready to keel over from exhaustion, yet she stubbornly forced herself awake. Perhaps she was worried that her brother couldn’t make it out of the mountain in one piece? With the manner she was pushing herself, it wouldn’t be healthy for her. 

“Don’t worry, Nezuko,” reassured Urokodaki, finally glancing up from the fire. “Your brother will be fine. Why don’t you go rest?”

Xion shook her head, whining softly in protest. She pointed towards the entrance, and then at a spot directly in front of where she sat. Behind his mask, Urokodaki frowned; it seemed her mind was all made up. 

She wouldn’t rest until she saw her brother walking through the entrance. That was what he had inferred from her countenance and from her gestures. 

The demoness, however, took his advice somewhat. Instead of watching the entrance like a dutiful guard, she had chosen to distract herself from her anxiety by watching him prepare breakfast. She scrunched her eyes in deep focus, but the cultivator noticed it soon softened into something else the longer she observed him on his task, particularly at the contents of the pot. 

Just as when he was scooping up some tofu with a ladle did he finally recognise the emotions in Nezuko’s eyes. 

Hunger and desire.

Dumbfounded, he silently stared at the anomaly next to him in the form of a demon girl. Until now, Urokodaki was never aware of the possibility that a demon would crave for human  _ food _ instead of their flesh. 

“Do you want some, Nezuko?” he asked, testing to see if his assumptions were correct. 

To his immense surprise, she nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling with joy that could only have originated from a man who had starved for days before finally finding something edible. Carefully, Nezuko removed the bamboo muzzle, setting it down on the table. She smiled gratefully at Urokodaki. 

“Thank… you… Urokodaki… san,” she said, her words disjointed from wearing the muzzle for prolonged periods of time. 

Had Urokodaki been any ordinary folk, he would have gaped with undiluted astonishment. He was not, fortunately for both of them, so he could disguise his emotions better. Truly, Nezuko really wasn’t anything like any of the demons he had encountered in his life since the beginning of his demon-slaying career. 

Soon, the meal was all spread out on the table, and both human and demon ate in silence. Nezuko ate courteously, although it wasn’t hard to see that she was wolfing down the food as politely as possible. Still, it was surprising to see absolutely no averse reaction to the food given; she seemed to enjoy the meal very much, going by the scent of happiness and pleasure that she gave off. 

When they had finished eating, the sky had lit up, signifying daybreak’s arrival. Nezuko had just given her thanks for the food just when her brother barrelled into the room unceremoniously, out of breath. Battered, bruised and winded, but alive and well. 

“Did… I… pass?” were the only words Tanjiro wheezed out, before he collapsed from exhaustion, knocked out cold. 

Nezuko immediately rushed over to her unconscious brother’s side, fussing over him and checking to see if he had any grievous injuries. Urokodaki watched the scene, wearing a proud smile behind his mask. 

“Tanjiro Kamado,” he whispered, despite knowing fairly well that the boy would not hear a thing. “I accept you as my student!”


	5. Scions of the Water Cultivator

Sora spent the first five days bedridden and recovering his strength. Despite him waking up hours after he had collapsed, the boy could hardly find the strength to even twitch a forefinger, much less train. None of them found it surprising, especially for Xion, although it still didn’t stop her from worrying. After all, he had barely rested for nearly three days and two nights straight. This would have been more than sufficient to put any ordinary person out of commission for quite some time.

After the fifth night, however, Sora regained most of his energy. By then, it was Xion’s turn to slip into a deep coma. He didn’t have time to fret about her wellbeing, for it was then that Urokodaki deemed him healthy enough to begin his training regime. Like a boot camp sergeant, he strictly instructed his latest apprentice to be ready by first light, no excuses. The latter frantically followed up with an equally fearful and eager “Yes, sir!”

To the former Wielder’s surprise, the old man began the day with a lecture about the background of the line of work he was now training to be a part of. 

“What do you know about the Demon Slayers, Tanjiro?” inquired Urokodaki, gazing intently at his newest charge. Said person gulped nervously. 

“All I know is that they are skilled swordsmen whose job is to eliminate demons,” answered Sora truthfully, beads of cold sweat rolling down his face and neck. “And… would it be wrong if I assumed that someone led them? Like an organisation of sorts?”

_ Even we Keyblade Wielders have a crude mimicry of an organisation,  _ commented Sora to himself.  _ Although we mostly operate alone.  _

“Yes,” nodded Urokodaki, sounding mildly surprised by Sora’s observation. “We call it the Demon Slayer Corps. So far, there are a few hundred members in the Corps. However… it is not an organisation officially recognised by the government, but it has existed and operated for centuries. To this day, the Corps continues to hunt demons.” 

_ Why does this sound so much like Keyblade Wielders?  _ Sora wondered curiously, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  _ Replace certain words, and you get an apt description of our responsibilities plus what we are. _

“Who leads the Demon Slayer Corps?” blurted Sora, almost regretting his thoughtless question soon after the words left his lips. 

Urokodaki said nothing, and Sora was sure that he was frowning disapprovingly behind that fierce-looking tengu mask of his. His mentor did not answer aloud, but the silence that he allowed to fester was telling enough. Swallowing his mild disappointment (and embarrassment at his faux pas), Sora nodded.

**“** As you stated earlier, Demon Slayers kill demons, **”** continued Urokodaki, his tone tranquil as usual, betraying no hints of his earlier emotions.  **“** Unlike demons, who have a myriad of supernatural abilities, demon slayers are fully human. We heal much slowly, and we certainly cannot regrow lost limbs. For demons, all they need is to reconnect their severed appendages and they can recover instantly, or simply regenerate new ones. Nonetheless, demon slayers continue to fight them face-to-face in the name of protecting the ordinary people. **”**

**“** Which brings us here, **”** finished Urokodaki, snapping his gaze to Sora. The latter subconsciously straightened the moment he felt the intensity of the stare burning into his skin.  **“** I am a Cultivator. As its name implies, I train budding swordsmen to prepare them for a life of Demon Slaying. There are many other Cultivators, in different places, each of them using a style unique to them.

**“** To join the Demon Slayer Corps, you must survive the Final Selection at Mt. Fujikasane. I decide whether or not you are eligible for the Final Selection. Is that clear? **”**

“Yes, sensei,” nodded Sora, his lips pursed with determination. 

“Good,” said Urokodaki, his words tinged slightly with approval. “Now, let us begin…”

The training was hellish. The day always begins with Sora climbing up the mountain and then descending the mountain within a time limit, while having to avoid the traps set beforehand (he discovered that they were planted by a hunter acquaintance of Urokodaki’s). Over time, detecting and avoiding them gradually got easier. His sense of smell improved as well, granting him an even higher chance of detecting the whereabouts of the hidden trap before he reached them. Then, after his training with the katana began, he had to descend the mountain with the sword in hand, making his task far more cumbersome. 

Of course, Urokodaki wasn’t going to make it a mere walk in the park for him. Whenever it seemed to the Cultivator that the traps were getting too easy for him, he would make them deadlier and much easier to set off. His “favourite” was the one that replaced the contraption that used to fire rocks at him whenever he stepped on the trigger wire; it fired out sharp daggers now. 

His heart always stilled with intense horror whenever the blade projectiles came close to impaling his head, and the same nervous thought never failed to pass through his mind seconds after surviving that lethal ambush. 

_ Does Urokodaki-sensei hate me so much that he wants to kill me? _

After he completed this daily obstacle course, Urokodaki spent the rest of the day drilling combat techniques into Sora’s skull. Learning the Water Breathing technique, practice wielding a katana, training up his body and learning to break his fall plus recovering from taking a hit were the few things that they did throughout the day. Much like his obstacle course session, the longer he trained under Urokodaki, their training sites went up in altitude where the air gradually got thinner and his training much more treacherous than it was previously. 

Occasionally, he would catch sight of Xion (she woke up two weeks after) quietly observing them ascending the mountain from inside the hut, her eyes reflecting with an indecipherable emotion. 

While it sounded mundane, there were some questionably interesting incidents that cropped up from time to time. Once, when they were at the waterfall, Urokodaki threw Sora off a cliff without warning. Another time, he had threatened his charge that if the borrowed katana snapped under his watch, he'd break his bones. That was after he had explained the mechanics of the sword, fortunately for the slayer-in-training. Not to mention that the masked man had a penchant for walloping Sora’s stomach whenever he made a mistake, be it in whenever he resorted to his default horseman stance or when he breathed in the wrong rhythm. 

Adjusting himself to the blade wasn’t easy, either. Unlike the Keyblade, katanas were extremely fragile and shattered like glass if struck hard enough at the sides. Sora was very much aware that he shouldn’t compare a legendary  _ magical  _ weapon with an ordinary steel sword, but that was the only analogy he could think of. The core problem was Sora's habit of clobbering his opponents, i.e. instead of slashing and stabbing, he was whacking his targets around as if he were using a club. Unfortunately for him, that muscle memory was carried over from his time as a Wielder, much to Sora’s dismay and Urokodaki’s annoyance. 

During training spars, he often would fall back on this old habit, only to suddenly remember at the last second that the katana wasn’t made to be wielded in such a manner. More frequently than not, he hastily switched his stance mid-attack, which ultimately made his strikes much less effective. Urokodaki would then bellow out his signature “No!” and slap his student’s stomach hard. 

That habit had given Sora way too many beatings that were accounted for on his poor torso. Especially that one incident where he almost came close to snapping his blade; he still winced in phantom pain whenever he recalled that moment. Still, it wasn’t all that different from wielding a Keyblade. He was making decent progress as soon as he had ridden his pesky habit of using the flat of the katana to block, so it wasn’t all bad.

However, the most surprising incident took place about a few months after. One evening, Xion had picked up Sora’s training blade, pointed at Urokodaki before gesturing at the blade and then herself, before pantomiming a swordsman swinging his sword with the sheathed weapon. The charades were mostly for Urokodaki’s sake, but Sora understood what she was trying to say. 

“You want to be a Demon Slayer as well, Nezuko?” asked Sora, feigning a convincing look of surprise. He knew very well that she would fare just fine, as a former Keyblade Wielder herself just like himself.

Urokodaki seemed pensive. He sat in a lotus position on the floor, face downcast and arms crossed thoughtfully. For a long time, nobody spoke, and the air grew so thick with tension that if Sora had slashed the air with his katana, he was sure he would cut something. After an uncomfortable period of silence, he acknowledged Xion with a rigid stare. 

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” he asked sternly, making abundantly clear that it was a serious issue not to be trifled with at a whim. 

Xion nodded furiously, her eyes blazing with resolve. 

Urokodaki said nothing, before he let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You two… you keep on surprising me at every turn. Very well, Nezuko.”

They drafted out plans that night. Sora was to continue his training routine in the daytime, whereas Xion’s would begin as soon as the sun had fully set, because of her current condition. And their lives went on as normal, except the hut was now empty save for his own presence at nightfall. The duo would return just before daybreak, in time for Sora’s turn. Urokodaki would take a quick break in between the schedules, before urging Sora to follow him and begin the routine all over again. 

Xion seemed to be doing well, if not better than himself, if her recounting were anything reliable enough to go by. But it was hard to tell physically, since demons heal at an insanely fast rate. Any injuries she sustained would have instantly healed over the moment it was inflicted. Either way, it was still a relief to hear that she was doing just as expected. 

A little after a year had passed when Urokodaki brought him along an unfamiliar pathway which led to nowhere that he knew about. It was a path not taken, his sensei possibly judging that it has no use for his progress. Interest piqued, Sora wondered what exactly the cultivator wanted to show him today that needed them to be so far away from the hut.

Eventually, they stopped at a clearing. Despite being devoid of foliage, there was a darkness that clung around the area, making it look much darker than it should at this time of day. It wasn’t the same malicious darkness that Sora had to stave off, no. Rather, this kind was more like the benign darkness of night; mystical and alluring, as if it holds secrets of an unknown world filled with magic. Mist, much thicker than the one commonly manifesting in the mountain, clinging onto them, clogging all of his senses and shutting him out of his surroundings. 

He squinted his eyes, trying to see what was in front of him in the mist. A large, rounded silhouette stood in what looked like the middle of the clearing. Sora couldn’t tell what the silhouette was, but its inanimate nature hinted that it was likely to be a large rock of sorts. 

The mist subsided a little, clearing up just enough for Sora to perceive his surroundings well. His jaw hung agape when the silhouette revealed to be an enormous boulder, almost twice his height, with a thick rope wrapped around it. A shimenawa, if Sora remembered correctly; he’d seen something like that on his rare visits to a shrine. Although… why was it tied around a  _ boulder  _ of all things?

“I have nothing more to teach you,” announced Urokodaki abruptly. 

“Huh?”

“The rest is up to you,” he added succinctly, ignoring Sora’s so eloquent response. “Here lies the question… do you have what it takes to bring my teachings to the next level?”

He turned, facing Sora, his tengu mask glaring into Sora’s stupefied eyes as fiercely as ever. 

“If you can slice this boulder, I will permit you to partake in the Final Selection. Nezuko will have the same test elsewhere.”

_ What?!  _ Sora swivelled, gawking at the ridiculously large boulder with dumbfounded eyes.  _ Slice this with my katana? _

This boulder was definitely sliceable, were he still a Keyblade Wielder and still had access to the higher tiered spells. But as he is, in this moment? Completely magicless and nothing to augment his existing repertoire of spells… not to mention the glaring possibility that his blade would shatter upon hitting the boulder. What he would get next would be pieces of a shattered katana and an unharmed oversized piece of rock. The katana was equal parts dangerous and vulnerable, just like a wooden toy sword (don’t argue, getting beaten by a wood stick is painful as heck). 

But he couldn’t back out now! Sora came here so he could become a Slayer and ergo, find a cure to turn Xion back. He’d come so far, and there was no way he would give up now. If Urokodaki told him so, there must be at least a sliver of a chance of him successfully performing this feat. He might as well be grabbing at impossibly thin straws, but desperate times lead to desperate measures. Whatever that would give him a fighting chance, Sora would take it without a second thought.

Never again would he fail them again… 

Perking his head, he intended on answering Urokodaki, but when he turned to where Urokodaki stood, all he saw was emptiness. The cultivator had long since left the area whilst Sora was still stupidly gawking at the humongous boulder in shock.

Well, nothing left to do but to focus on completing this impossible task at hand.

* * *

“Giyuu-san, do you have a free slot?”

“Hmm?” the Water Pillar glanced up, making eye contact with a pair of light violet eyes. He spaced out for a few moments, mentally checking his schedule, before replying monotonously. “...I’m free this weekend. Why, Shizue-san?”

“I was thinking… maybe we should visit Urokodaki-san?”

“Urokodaki-san?” repeated Giyuu with slight interest, despite his face looking blank. 

_ It’s been a while since I’ve paid that old man a visit…  _ thought Giyuu, before he remembered something else.  _ Wait. Come to think of it, isn’t that boy with his demon sister with him right now? _

Just thinking of the duo already made him feel weird. Ever since they’ve first met, Giyuu couldn’t help but feel a strong connection to them, along with a peculiar buzzing in his head that appeared suddenly upon that fateful day and refused to leave him alone ever since. It was a bizarre sensation; it was something like déjà vu, but at a much stronger degree. Like he had forgotten someone that he once held very close to his heart. 

_ Heart…  _ it was such a simple word, yet it set off so many of those confusing emotions inside of him. He had thought little about it before that day, but after then? It was as if all at once, he suddenly remembered the meanings that he once associated with that abstract concept, yet at the same time he didn’t. 

Why did he feel that way? What exactly  _ was  _ he forgetting, or better yet, what was he trying to remember? 

And the million-yen question: who are those siblings, really?

“Yoo-hoo? Giyuu-san? Earth to Giyuu-san!”

He jumped, startled at the unexpected knockings at the top of his forehead. Scowling, he swatted at the offending hand, grumbling irritably. 

“What’s got you so shaken up?” asked Shizue, half-teasingly and half-concernedly. “You’re never this out of it before.” 

“Nothing,” he dismissed flippantly, changing the subject rapidly. “So it’s settled then? We’re visiting Urokodaki-san on the weekend?”

“Mm, yeah,” said Shizue, shrugging slightly before raising her eyebrows suggestively. “Unless… you want to spend it all with Kocho, hmm?”

“Don’t make such absurd claims,” countered Giyuu, voice flat and emotionless. “She and I are just colleagues.”

“I’ll believe that when hell freezes over,” quipped the turquoise-haired female, almost bitterly. She sighed, getting up to her feet. “Well, I’m off now. Be seeing you. Ta-ta!”

She waved cheerfully and departed, childishly skipping off and swinging her nichirin blade in one hand childishly. Giyuu stared after his childhood friend until her outline faded away into the distance. He sighed lightly, glancing at the ground as he continued to brood. Neither of them were ever the same after Sabito had met his end in Mt. Fujikasane, during the Final Selection. He had turned inwards for solace, whereas she had sought (sometimes questionable) outside company to soothe her grief. 

Honestly, Shizue sometimes worried him. Scratch that, a lot of times. Countless, even. 

* * *

Since that day, Urokodaki never taught him anything again. 

Sora, feeling a bit lost with no guidance, kept on honing his physique and his swordsmanship. At the moment, he had zero confidence that he could slice the boulder, so he placed the ambitious goal aside and focused on achieving baby steps, accomplishing one step at a time. 

His first baby step was to cleave a rock the size of his palm cleanly in half. As a test of his capabilities, Sora tried to slice it the moment he found it, only for it to remain completely unharmed and his katana denting slightly. He was not at all amused, slightly horrified even, at the prospect of Urokodaki discovering the atrocity he committed. The boy made a mental note to sharpen the blade later to smooth it out as much as he can. 

Sore began to push himself to the limits, repeating what Urokodaki had taught him with almost fanatical fervour. He poured his heart and soul into every single movement, in the desperate hopes that something would come out of his hard work. Hours stretched into days, then into weeks, yet there was no cleaved rock. In its wake, all he achieved was a dented sword and a dark spiralling depression inside his soul. 

Exhausted, Sora took a day off to clear his head and to rest up his strength. That evening, he trudged despondently back into the hut and lay down on the futon on his sides as soon as he finished his dinner. Xion tailed after him, sitting down beside his futon and watching him like a mother wolf. The eldest Kamado groaned, turning his back to her. 

_ “Is something the matter, Sora?”  _ asked Xion, sounding just as exhausted as he was. A twinge of guilt stabbed at Sora’s heart. 

_ “Sorry. I just…”  _ Sora paused, unsure of how to word his frustrations. Eventually, he settled for going the honest route.  _ “I’m just frustrated and tired. That damn boulder is too tough for me to cut through!” _

_ “No boulder is too tough for you,”  _ replied Xion firmly and confidently.  _ “You, a Guardian of Light and a warrior who cleaved through the forces of darkness, now finds a mere common boulder unbeatable?” _

_ “That was different, Xion!”  _ exclaimed Sora agitatedly, jolting up into a sitting position and glaring at her intensely. “That was when I still had the Keyblade. Now? I’m nothing!”

Without warning, Xion slapped Sora’s face. The latter’s eyes widened in shock, one hand gingerly holding the area where his sister had struck him. He hissed quietly when the surface stung at his hesitant touch.

_ “Don’t you dare say that!”  _ she hissed, narrowing her eyes angrily.  _ “Keyblade or not, you’re still Sora, the link that keeps us together! You just lost sight of your strength. All you need to do is to find it again.” _

_ “But how?” _

_ “You’re asking me?”  _ remarked Xion incredulously, but Sora caught a whiff of amusement emanating from her. _ “How would I know? You’re the one who always makes the impossible happen. Why don’t you ask yourself?” _

_ “Bummer,”  _ grumbled Sora, pouting childishly and crossing his arms moodily. Xion just giggled, patting him on the head. 

As annoyed as he was by the playful gesture, Sora didn’t slap Xion’s hand away, hating to ruin what little fun that she gets to have. He sighed in resignation, trying to reflect on the insights he didn’t even realise he needed. Besides, his hair had always been unruly; letting her mess it up wouldn’t make any difference. At least it saves him the trouble of fussing over distasteful bedheads in the morning and spares him the chance of ever experiencing a bad hair day.  __

Xion was right. Sora had lost his strength once, after his Mark of Mastery exam, and had to regain his strength all over again. Didn’t he turn out just fine in the end? And as for losing the Keyblade… it happened once, and it hadn’t deterred him from doing what he had to. So why did this matter so much now? 

Perhaps he was just blinded by frustration. Then, it was time for him to take a step back and clear his mind before diving back in.

Sora laid back onto his futon again, letting himself drift off to sleep, drained out by the rigorous training that he pushed himself to do. Xion smiled sadly beside him, tucking him so he would be more comfortable as she watched him sleep. It was now her turn to endure another fruitless night of trying to slice her boulder, and frankly, she didn’t want to face that frustrating reality just yet. 

While she was a demon, and therefore should have the strength to destroy a boulder with ease, Xion suspected that Urokodaki had done something to cancel out her demonic abilities in the equation. Not only was she just as unsuccessful as Sora when it came to the task, but she also could not even inflict a single measly dent in the stupid rock. Well, she didn’t care. Ironically, this infuriating weakness made her feel human, and she was grateful for her mentor for giving her that. There wasn’t a single day that went by that Xion didn’t despise herself for becoming an abomination. 

Smiling another wistful smile, the demoness couldn’t help but wonder what had Sora seen and experienced during the time of his disappearance. It must have been something traumatising, if it was enough to cause that presumably unshakeable optimism of his to waver. 

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. No matter what, Xion will never know the truth unless he spills the beans.

* * *

It was bright and early when the two high-ranking Slayers popped by for their agreed visit.

“Urokodaki-san!” 

“Ah, Shizue?” the masked man glanced up, surprised to see both his students popping by. “And Giyuu, as well? This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Don’t look at me. Shizue-san dragged me here, I didn’t want to come.”

“Oh, come on!” pouted Shizue, poking incessantly at her companion’s side. “You were the one who agreed to come with me. Don’t twist the facts.”

Giyuu huffed lightly, glancing away abashedly, his cheeks tinged light pink. Urokodaki barked out a laugh at the nostalgic sight. 

“You two hadn’t changed a bit,” said Urokodaki fondly. “Come in! I’ll make some tea.”

The three of them entered the hut, chatting amicably while their old mentor occupied himself with boiling water in a teakettle. Both Slayers sat cross-legged on the floor, either still rambling cheerfully on without a care in the world or brooding quietly at the side respectively. 

The sounds of a door sliding open interrupted the camaraderie atmosphere, prompting Shizue to stop her ramblings and fixate her gaze at the source, one hand gripping tightly on the hilt of her nichirin blade. Giyuu, noticing the disturbance as well, seemed unperturbed outwardly, the anxious flicker in his dull cobalt eyes going unnoticed. One pink eye flecked with indigo peeked out from the slight gap, staring into the woman’s violet ones. The door quickly slammed shut the second they made eye contact. 

An awkward silence filled the room. Shizue turned towards her mentor, a slightly strained smile on her face.

“Urokodaki-san,” she began, with an uncharacteristically serene tone. “I didn’t know you had gotten a new apprentice.”

Giyuu was almost tempted to correct her, but held his tongue. The fewer anyone knew about this, the better. Heaven forbid anyone discovers that he had disobeyed the Corps’ sacred rule, even if she had turned out to be something starkly different from the abominations they had to eliminate on a daily basis. 

“Two, actually,” corrected Urokodaki, setting down a tray on the table and pouring out cups of hot tea. “Giyuu was the one who sent the siblings to me. The one who just slammed the door shut is the younger sister, Nezuko Kamado. Her brother, Tanjiro, had already set out into the mountains before you two arrived.”

“I see,” nodded Shizue, taking a careful sip on her drink. She grinned, jabbing her elbow into Giyuu’s side playfully. “I didn’t peg you as the type who would pick up strays, Giyuu! What a surprising turn of events!”

Said Pillar sent an irritated glare at Shizue, pinning down the offending elbow. “I didn’t ‘pick up strays’, Shizue. All I did was give credit when it’s due.” 

“By the way,” said Giyuu, surprised and curious about his former mentor’s statement. “Is she…?”

“Yes,” nodded Urokodaki, his arms crossed. “To be frank, I was taken aback with her abrupt request as well.”

“Why is it so surprising?” asked Shizue, perplexed by their comments. “I feel like I’m seriously out of the loop here…”

Both men stared at Shizue blankly, pondering on whether to let her in on their not-so-little secret. Giyuu sent Urokodaki a questioning look, before the older man nodded subtly in approval. 

“Shizue,” said Giyuu solemnly, prompting the turquoise-haired woman to jump up slightly. “Whatever we tell you here in this room, stays with this room. Do you understand?”

“Alright, I suppose…? What is it that you have to keep it so hush-hush?” 

“Excuse me!” blurted a voice, followed by a loud crash at the door. 

A boy, looking about fourteen years of age, barged into the room, his cheeks flushed red. He wore a green-and-black checkered haori over white robes and black pants, his wavy reddish-brown hair tied back in a short ponytail that was almost reminiscent of Giyuu’s, although the former’s was considerably less shaggy. Hanafuda earrings dangled from his ears, both of them adorned with the image of a red sun in a white background. His eyes were a crimson shade, flecked with sky blue. And a strangely familiar shade of blue too, though Shizue couldn’t put a finger where and when she’d seen it before. The boy stared at them, bewildered by their presence.

All eyes turned onto him, either betraying their surprise, indifference and sternness. 

“Tanjiro, please refrain from kicking down the door.”

“Understood, sensei!” wheezed the burgundy-haired boy, trudging into the hut and closing the door  _ gently  _ behind him. 

“So you’re Tanjiro?” said Shizue, intrigued. The teenager’s bright eyes ( _ just like the sun _ , thought Shizue idly) flitted to meet her gaze. 

“Uh, yes, …may I ask who you are?” 

“Oh, pardon my manners!” remarked Shizue, placing a hand over her chest in mock scandalisation. “My name is Shizue. Shizue Fuji. This emo next to me is…”

“Giyuu, right, Shizue-san?” interrupted Tanjiro, diverting his attention to the shaggy-haired Pillar. The latter didn’t seem at all interested in striking a conversation with the boy, if he was avoiding eye contact with him in disinterest. 

“Giyuu-san, what brings you here?” asked Tanjiro, now taking a seat at the table with them. 

“Shizue dragged me here,” he muttered flatly. 

“Oh, stop that nonsense!” she rebutted, annoyed. “You were the one who agreed to come along!” 

Soon, the two of them were engaged in a heated exchange. The younger apprentice looked at his mentor questioningly, silently inquiring about the weird turn of events. 

“Shizue and Giyuu were my former students,” explained Urokodaki, watching the playful argument unfold with a tinge of amusement. “They were in the same batch, and both took the Final Selection together. Occasionally, they would drop in to visit me.”

“Oh, is that why he sent us to meet you?”

“I believe so,” agreed Urokodaki. “He must have taken a shine to you, if he was willing to send you to me.”

Tanjiro made a suspicious choking noise, quickly morphing into awkward coughs. He shook his head, rose to his feet and walked towards his room. The two Slayers had stopped arguing the moment they heard the sliding door open, watching their junior with great interest. 

“X-Nezuko? Why are you cowering in that corner with a blanket over your head?”

A series of muffled grunts and whines responded to him. They were unintelligible, but Tanjiro seemed to be able to comprehend them with no apparent difficulty. 

“It will not happen again, Nezuko. I’ll make sure of it. And besides, they look friendly enough. Why don’t you come out and say hi?”

Nezuko let out a reluctant whine, followed by some rustling of fabric and the light tappings of footsteps on wood. Shizue gasped when she finally had a good look at the owner of the pink-indigo eye.

A petite girl emerged from the darkness, dressed in a hemp leaf patterned pink kimono and a dark brown haori that reached past her knees, with a red and white checkered obi hugging around her waist. Her hair was  _ long, _ Shizue noted with awe, so long that it cascaded past her waist. Its colour was a lustrous black that turned vermillion at the ends, save for one lock that was pure black with a raven-like sheen. A bamboo gag covered her mouth. Instead of nails, her fingers were tipped with sharp claws. 

“She’s… she’s a…”

“Yeah, she’s a demon,” finished Giyuu, sounding nonchalant. “Don’t worry. She’s perfectly harmless… unless you attack her or her brother.”

“She hasn’t eaten anyone, has she?” whispered Shizue, her right hand twitching over at the hilt of her sword. 

“Of course she hasn’t!” proclaimed Tanjiro, offended at the implication. The demoness shied away, dodging behind her brother the moment she saw Shizue’s unsettling countenance. 

“I can vouch for that, Shizue,” agreed Urokodaki. “The only thing she ever ate was human food.” 

Now it was Giyuu’s turn to look surprised. 

“She eats human food?” he repeated, utterly flabbergasted by that bombshell. “I didn’t know that was even possible.”

“Neither did I,” concurred the Water Cultivator. 

Nezuko growled in what sounded like incredulity, almost as if she was saying ‘well, what else can I eat?’. Her brother patted her head soothingly, whispering to her under his breath. She visibly relaxed, although she still maintained her distance with them. 

“Well, Giyuu-san, you really know how to pick ‘em,” spoke Shizue amusedly, after an uncomfortable pause. “I can’t say I agree with your choice, but they look decent enough, so I guess I’ll keep this quiet.”

“Thank you,” said the Water Pillar, bowing his head slightly in gratitude. 

“So,” she grinned, leaning over the table enthusiastically. “Anyone gonna tell me the whole story?” 

* * *

_ “Today was… interesting.” _

_ “That’s a severe understatement,”  _ said Xion, rolling over in her own futon.  _ “I thought that Shizue woman was going to slice my head clean off when she saw me.” _

_ “She warmed up to you in the end, didn’t she?”  _ grinned Sora, flipping himself over into a prone position, a blanket draped over him.  _ “She was fussing over you like a mother hen! If she weren’t so childish, I would’ve thought Aqua was here with us.” _

_ “Don’t forget, she was fussing over you too!”  _ retorted Xion playfully, jabbing lightly at Sora’s skull.  _ “I think even Giyuu found it funny. I saw his lips twitching into a smirk whenever he thinks no one is looking.” _

Sora sprung up, as if he had suddenly remembered something. Without saying a word, he rummaged through his pockets, looking for a certain something that had left his mind for more than a year. He exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when he found it. Despite being in his pocket for so long, it hadn’t looked as if it had taken any visible damage. 

_ “Here,”  _ he handed the long-forgotten aster hairpin to Xion. The girl stared at the hair accessory with blatant confusion and bemusement.  _ “This is for you.” _

_ “When did you find the time to get this?”  _ she asked, tilting her head to the side. 

_ “Actually, Takenouchi-san gave it to me about before that incident,”  _ explained Sora, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.  _ “It’s her reward for you for a job well done. I’ve forgotten about it for an entire year.” _

_ “You hadn’t changed a bit!”  _ laughed Xion, gently smacking her brother’s head. Her face softened as she accepted the gift that was overdue by more than a year.  _ “But thanks. It’s a lovely hairpin.” _

Sora rubbed his nose bashfully, wearing his signature cheesy grin.  _ “I’m glad you liked it! A pity I can’t tell Takenouchi-san about that now…” _

Xion hummed in response, admiring her new hairpin. 

_ “By the way, are you going to try your luck with the boulder again?” _

_ “Yep,”  _ she said, finally tearing her eyes away from her gift.  _ “I mean, nowhere for us to go but forwards, right? Either we succeed or die trying.” _

Well, Xion had a point, despite it being needlessly morbid. And for her sake, Sora will keep on trying as well. 

* * *

Dusk had already fallen when Sora finally came to a breakthrough. 

It was so unbelievable, that Sora had to pinch himself hard on the cheek multiple times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Yet that was the reality, for no matter how many times the pain had shot through him, the two halves of the puny rock sat squarely at its spot. Ridiculously delirious, Sora whooped with joy and triumph, celebrating the small victory that held promises of him eventually achieving his ultimate goal. 

A derisive scoff quickly interrupted his moment of celebration. The disciple stiffened, swivelling to meet the unexpected intruder that he had failed to detect. 

A boy with spiky peach hair sat on the large boulder, wearing a white fox mask with a large jagged scar across its right cheek. He wore a green and yellow hexagonal patterned yukata, secured in place with a piece of black fabric tied around his waist, with a long white haori worn over it. Around his calves were two pieces of fabric, patterned identically with his yukata. Twin thick cords of red rope hung from behind his ears, which Sora assumed was used to keep his mask from slipping off of his face. 

The oddest thing was that this boy had no scent. 

“Where’d you come from!?” demanded Sora, regarding the mysterious visitor with shock. 

“Hmph,” he sniffed haughtily, ignoring his question altogether and stared down at Sora. “You celebrate too early. It took you… what, four months? Just to slice that pathetically tiny rock? You should’ve been able to split this boulder over here by now!”

“What have you been doing in the past few months?” he spat, sliding down from his perching spot. 

“Training,” answered Sora briskly, through gritted teeth and clutching the hilt of his katana with restrained irritation. He was liking this boy less and less. 

“Ha!” he scoffed mockingly. “You call that training?! Please, don’t make me laugh.”

“What do you know about what I’ve gone through?!” 

“Everything,” whispered the masked, taking a step closer. “Now, if you’re so defensive about your so-called ‘accomplishments’, why don’t you prove yourself? Right here, right now.”

The boy raised his wooden katana, lowering into a battle-ready stance. 

“Now?” blanched Sora. 

“Yes. So attack me. Give me everything you have to offer!”

“But… you’re holding a wooden sword.”

The boy burst into hysterical fits of mirthless laughter. The next thing Sora knew, he was right in front of him, barely intercepting the masked boy’s imperceptibly quick strike in time by virtue of his muscle memory. 

“Thanks so much for your concern,” he drawled sarcastically, pushing down with greater force than before. “No need for your misplaced compassion from the bottom of your snivelling, bleeding heart. You can’t hurt me; I’m so much stronger than you, for I’ve already split a boulder!”

That was the last straw for Sora. Enraged, the boy placed it all of his strength into his arm muscles, using every single iota of his power to push him back. Overwhelmed, the masked boy relaxed his arms and leapt back to safety, causing Sora to lose his balance and stumble over. He glared at the boy, cursing underneath his breath.

“Not bad,” he grunted out grudgingly. “But… you still learned nothing!”

In a blink of an eye, Sora was pelted all over by invisible sword strikes, his opponent moving so quickly that he was invisible to the naked eye. He gurgled in pain, trying to swat away the blows, only for them to increase in viciousness and in frequency. 

“All you’ve done is memorise the techniques Urokodaki taught you as fact! Your body has zero clue on how to apply it!” Sora heard the boy yell furiously at him, in the midst of his pain-induced haze. “Beat them into your flesh and blood; to the point you become the living embodiment of those secrets taught to you themselves! More, more! Show me  _ everything  _ you got!”

“SHUT UP!” roared Sora, finally having enough of the boy’s nonsense. 

Seeing red, he took a wild swing, feeling the strike connect into something briefly before it faded as quickly as it appeared. The beatings stopped, allowing Sora to get a breather from the unfair beatings and for him to calm down the roaring fury frothing inside of him. He took deep shaking breaths, doing his utmost to relax his tensed up body. Unknown to Sora, the boy had snuck up behind him, his stance deathly calm. Leaning into Sora’s ear, he whispered his final words to him. 

“You’re too emotional for your own good.”

Eyes widening, Sora swivelled, trying to place some distance between himself and his opponent. Unfortunately, he was far too slow, and the boy slammed his wooden katana hard into the side of his neck, rendering him unconscious.

Sora slumped onto the ground, his katana falling onto the ground with a metallic clang. His opponent sighed, rubbing his left arm, where his white haori had been ripped open by his rage-driven attack. While it hadn’t sunk into his flesh, it would have definitely been more than enough to tip the odds of the spar into Sora’s favour had the latter moved quickly enough. Shaking his head, he took another glance at the unconscious boy. 

A girl with black hair walked into the clearing. Like the boy, she too had a white fox mask with two blue flowers painted on its left cheek.

“Haven’t you gone a bit too far, Sabito?” asked the girl. “He isn’t as strong as he used to be, you know?”

“Someone had to give him a reality check, Makomo. He’s going nowhere with the current rate he’s progressing in,” retorted Sabito scathingly. “I want to bring him back to at least a fraction of his former power before he leaves for the Final Selection.”

“We’ll see,” hummed Makomo. “Should I take it from here?”

“Go ahead,” said Sabito, gesturing to Sora. “I’ll go check on that demon girl now.”

“Just a fair warning, I  _ might  _ have beaten her up a little too much,” giggled Makomo. “I suppose that makes us even?”

“Hypocrite,” muttered Sabito, shaking his head in disbelief as he vanished into the mist. 

* * *

“Hey, are you alright?”

Sora awoke with a start, startled by the girl’s unexpected presence. She was very pleasant looking, with bright cyan eyes and shoulder-length raven locks that spiked outwards at the ends. She donned a red floral patterned kimono, and over it she wore a dark purple sleeveless haori with a piece of brown cloth wrapping around her waist. At the left side of her head was a white fox mask, similar to his opponent’s own mask in style. 

“Did you see that?!” he asked the girl, still in shock of his opponent’s impressive finesse. “He was so fast, I can’t even react to his attacks!”

He then rambled on about that masked boy’s superior swordsmanship, expressing his desire to match him in skill. Deep down, Sora was both hopeful and envious after witnessing his display. Hopeful because that encounter inadvertently proved that it was possible for him to replicate feats he had achieved before, as a Keyblade Wielder. Jealous if only because someone else had achieved what he hoped to achieve, way before he realised was even a possibility. 

All the while, his newfound companion smiled, listening to his rants with the patience of a goddess. 

“I’m sure you can reach his level one day,” she reassured, her patient smile unwavering. “I’ll… we’ll be watching over you. I’m Makomo. The boy who just beat you up and knocked you out cold is Sabito.”

_ Sabito, huh? This reminds me of Leon and Yuffie, back in Traverse Town… I think I fainted in my first battle against Leon even though I beat him, and then I woke up to Yuffie’s face.  _

“Hello?” Makomo waved a hand in front of Sora, snapping him out of his reverie. “You’re supposed to introduce yourself now.”

“Huh? Oh, right,” stammered Sora, straightening himself just a tad. “I’m S-Tanjiro.”

“S-Tanjiro?” teased Makomo.

“Tanjiro,” corrected Sora, internally berating himself for his blunder. “I guess I was really out of it.”

“Sure you do,” she said cheerfully. “So, shall we begin, Tanjiro?”

Since then, Makomo became Sora’s de facto trainer. Day by day, she had him practice his stance and a breathing technique called ‘Total Concentration Breathing’, pointing out his weaknesses and counterproductive habits, and correcting them. Under her guidance, he began to improve tremendously, making far more progress than he ever experienced when practising alone. He didn’t know why she was helping him. The few times he asked her about it, she would always answer with the same phrase with an enigmatic smile. One of those times, she let slip that Sabito was training Xion, after giving her default reaction.

“We really like Urokodaki.”

Sora had to assume that she was a former apprentice of Urokodaki. Because, really, that was the only plausible explanation.

Sabito occasionally comes over to test his progress, always whenever Makomo is away for reasons undisclosed. Every single time, Sora would face a humiliating defeat at his hands, although he could feel that he was improving bit by bit, being able to hold his own for a longer time than the last. 

Makomo reminded Sora of a friend. Weird, dreamy, and often saying things that he could never make head nor tails of, but ultimately having a good heart. It was almost reminiscent of Aerith, in the rare moments where he gets to interact with her. The older brunette - who he eventually viewed as an older sister figure - was full of insights and was always ready to dispense excellent advice whenever Sora needed it, even though he sometimes didn't understand her. 

At one time, she explained the effects of Total Concentration Breathing as “expanding the lungs to bring in more air than usual, which leads to an acceleration in blood flow and heartbeat”. Then, the body temperature spikes up, and this supposedly allows a human to perform feats normally beyond their physical capabilities. 

It was utterly baffling to Sora, but he didn’t question it. If there were magical items or spells with effects that were far more mind-boggling than this, then it would be best for him to just accept it as fact. Perhaps he would understand what she meant by that when he experienced it for himself, Sora figured. 

“There is no other way,” she said sombrely. “But to train. Keep on training, to the point it kills you.”

Sora had no other option but to take Makomo’s advice. He continued his training, pouring every bit of his energy into it. Even though his lungs burned, his muscles aching with exhaustion, and his throat hurting from all his reckless yellings, he persevered through them. With each day that he endured through, he felt a little more like his old self again. The same power that used to thrum inside his veins, patiently awaiting his commands, slowly but surely restored itself piece by piece, deep inside his soul.

The season changed during his gruelling training. From the crisp cool air of spring, the mountain air morphed into the warm and humid disposition of summer. Nature came alive, right before his eyes, although he never could properly admire it. At least, not until that day. 

That day, Sabito came over, fully intending on testing his progress as usual. However, this time instead of a wooden katana, he now held a  _ real  _ sheathed katana in his hand. He calmly regarded Sora, who had transformed since they first met. An aura of confident strength now enveloped the latter, the true mark of a proud warrior now fully restored in him.

“You’ve grown,” remarked Sabito approvingly. “Now you look every bit like the warrior you’re supposed to be.”

Sora offered no verbal response. He stared back at him pensively, although Sabito did not miss the momentary flash of appreciation in his eyes. 

“This time, I will win,” said Sora, readying his stance. Unlike before, his posture was no longer shaky and hesitant. It was sturdy and confident. 

The aim of this contest was simple: whoever strikes the fastest and the hardest gets to claim victory. The two swordsmen made eye contact; taking it as the signal for the competition to start, they both launched at each other, both swords poised to strike. 

For the first time, Sora could see Sabito’s movements clearly. During the several-months-long training, his own keen sense of smell skyrocketed to new levels and granted him a new ability that he dubbed ‘Opening Thread’. As its name implied, it allows him to visualise the opening in his opponent’s stances in the form of a reflective white thread that connects his weapon to their unguarded or poorly guarded areas. 

This new ability, plus his improved agility augmented by his Total Concentration Breathing, were instrumental in this battle. As soon as Sora lunged, he could see a thread connecting his katana to Sabito’s forehead. With this imaginary guidance, he made a rapid downward slash, slicing his opponent’s mask clean off before his own strike could touch him.

The mask fell off, revealing the face that hid behind it since the day they’ve first met. A youthful face, with a jagged scar running across his right cheek, not unlike the pattern on his fox mask, appeared before him. His silver eyes gleamed at him with sorrow, pride and relief. The smile on his lips reflected those exact emotions that he saw in his eyes. He relaxed his stance, wearing a plaintive expression. 

“Well done, Tanjiro,” commended Sabito, with a soft voice. “Or should I say, Sora - the Link to All?”

“Wha-”

“Win, Sora,” Sabito’s voice echoed in the clearing. “Defeat  _ them _ . For us, and for Urokodaki’s sake. We’ll be rooting for you.”

The fog rose, covering his surroundings with a thick blanket of whiteness, before it quickly subsided. When it did, Sora made a few discoveries. One - Sabito had mysteriously disappeared, leaving no physical trace behind. Two - he had not split Sabito’s mask, but the ‘impossibly thick’ boulder. A clean cut, just like the cuts he made on the bamboo stalks at the beginning of his training. And three - at the spot where Sabito had previously stood now sat a very familiar charm. 

_ Kairi’s wayfinder!,  _ he thought, astonished to see it here of all places. Sora had lost it after his banishment, so he was thrilled to be reunited with it again

He picked up the wayfinder and pocketed it, just as Urokodaki entered the clearing. 

“I never intended on sending you two for the Final Selection,” he admitted softly, holding his head down in downcast. “Too many of my children had met their ends there. That is why I purposely found the largest and thickest boulders for you two to split. I didn’t expect for you both to slice it.”

“But you… you two never cease to amaze me,” whispered Urokodaki, gently caressing his messy burgundy locks. “Go. Go to the Final Selection, and return here alive. I will wait for both of you.”

“Nezuko… She succeeded as well?” 

“Yes, she did.”

“Good,” he rasped out, doing his best to hold back his tears of joy. “I’m glad. I’m really glad…”

The waterworks broke. Before Sora knew it, he was crying uncontrollably, just vaguely registering Urokodaki’s comforting hug and pats on his back as the elderly man led him down the mountain. Soon, he cried himself to sleep, with his sister slumped beside him in their shared room.

The next day, Urokodaki gave him a haircut, snipping away at his hair until it was at ear’s length. Xion wanted one as well, but Sora then pointed out that she could not wear the hairpin if she did. She grumbled and pondered over it for a few minutes, before working out a solution - she took off the pink ribbon that held her bangs and replaced it with the hairpin, adding that purple suited her much better than pink. Both of them were very much amused at her behaviour. 

In the end, Xion finally got what she wanted and had her long hair trimmed into a chin-length bob, just like her old hairstyle in her previous life. 

Their mentor then gave them two white fox masks that he handcrafted by himself. He called them ‘warding masks’, claiming that it could ward off evil and keep the wearer safe from harm. Neither of them really believed his words, but took his word for it anyway. Because… well, if they’ve lived in a world of magic and infinite possibilities in a past lifetime, then nothing could faze them anymore, right?

The night before they were due to depart, Urokodaki showed Sora a wooden box with straps at one side. 

“It’s for you to carry your sister around during the day,” he explained. Sora studied the box with awe, the latter tapping the surface experimentally. “This is a box made from a special type of wood called Kirikumo cedar, reinforced with rock lacquer. I’ve also attached a holder at the right side to put Nezuko’s katana with.” 

“Incredible,” he gasped, surprised to see that he was lifting the box like it had been a ragdoll. “And it’s so light!”

The rest of the night was spent with Sora thanking his mentor profusely, Xion buzzing with excitement and them resting up their strength for their imminent journey. 

As soon as dawn approached, Sora shouldered the box which Xion had climbed into earlier, all prepared to leave. His own katana slung at his waist, he waved enthusiastically as he bade Urokodaki farewell, swearing to keep their promise that they’ve made with their mentor.

“We’ll be on our way now!” he said cheerfully, turning around to give Urokodaki a last wave in farewell. “Send our regards to Sabito and Makomo, alright?”

And they set off, oblivious to the stunned reaction of their master. He froze, still processing what Sora had said to him. It wasn’t until they had long since disappeared into the distance did he finally regain his nerve to comment on their statement to himself. 

“Tanjiro, Nezuko… Wherever did you hear the names of deceased children?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Shizue is an OC, but a very important OC. So, what do you think? Leave your thoughts in the comments if you can, even if all you can say is just "good job".


	6. Seven Nights in the Wisteria Grove

The walk to Mt. Fujikasane was uneventful, albeit enjoyable.

Surprisingly, there were never ambushed by demons throughout their journey. Since the encounter more than a year ago on their way to Mt. Sagiri, both of them were wary and prepared for history to repeat itself, only for it to never come. Not that they minded; it was a pleasant change in pace for their only worry to be enduring the blatant gawking from curious passersby.

Xion stayed in her box throughout the day, only coming out to stretch her legs at night. Whenever she was out in the open, she would wear her fox mask to conceal her demonic features, leaving her bamboo muzzle to hang around her neck like a makeshift necklace.

As for Sora, he never much liked the sensation of having something over his face, so he wore his mask over at the top left side of his head much like how Makomo wore hers. Not that he didn't take a liking to the white fox mask itself; he actually liked it and was thankful for it. The way it was masterfully crafted and decorated in correspondence with both of their appearances especially shows attentive Urokodaki was; wide-eyed and alert with a sun over where his forehead scar was for Sora, a cheeky smile coupled with adorable squinting eyes and an intricate lilac aster pattern at the top left corner for Xion.

By the time they arrived, the sun had fully set. After making sure there was no one around, Sora unshouldered the box to let Xion out of her container as she could now walk without fear of disintegrating. Like clockwork, she crawled out of her box, grew back to her normal size and removed her katana from its holder. Then, they continued onwards to the foot of the mountain.

From the bottom to its waist, wisteria blossoms covered the entire area for as far as the eye can see, all of them in full bloom. Purple flowers hung from the branches in elegant cascades, the canopies glowing softly in the moonlight and illuminating the stone path dimly. Sora stared at them in awe, amazed to see these blossoms in their full glory despite being out of season.

"Amazing," he breathed out in wonderment, admiring the lovely scenery. "I didn't think I would get to see wisteria blooming in summer!"

Xion, however, did not share his sentiments for the bewitching flora. The moment the masked demoness laid her eyes on them, she stiffened and clutched onto Sora's arm. The latter flinched in surprise when he smelt a wave of fear and sheer repulsion emanating from her, snapping his head to see her trembling slightly.

"What's wrong?"

"Wisteria…" she whispered shakily. "I…"

Wordlessly, Sora nodded in solemn comprehension. Taking her by the hand, he hurriedly led her through the forest, occasionally giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. He didn't slacken his pace throughout, knowing that Xion did not wish to linger in the wisteria forest any longer than it was necessary, until they had reached the meeting place of where aspiring candidates for the Final Selection gathered.

"Alright, we're out of the forest now," he comforted, rubbing on her back. "Are you feeling better now, Xion?"

"Y… yes," she answered, tightening her grip on his hand. "Thank you."

Sora sighed; was this another side-effect of her becoming a demon? From the looks of it, it was apparent that wisteria was deadly for demons, and they instinctively knew about it. Although, it made no sense why the mountain was chock full of it from the foot to its waist, unless… unless they were trying to keep something from ever leaving the mountain.

Sora shook his head, ridding himself of those thoughts, opting to observe his surroundings and take in the mystical ambience of the gathering spot's traditional Shintō-styled architecture to distract himself. Beside him, Xion gave him an odd look, but quickly dismissed it to be something unimportant.

"I didn't think there would be so many candidates," commented Sora, looking at the crowd in bewilderment.

The gathered candidates, including themselves, were a group totalled to no less than twenty-odd. Most of them looked to be in their teenage years, although he caught sight of a few who seemed to be a few years younger than the average. Most of them weren't out of the ordinary for warriors-in-training, except for four who caught his eye amongst the sea of teenagers (could he and Xion count themselves as one? Sora didn't know anymore).

One of them was a blonde boy with choppy, uneven hair as brightly coloured as his haori. Never had Sora seen anyone's hair having the exact shade of gold only a bolt of furious lightning could own, both in this life and in his previous one. With his brilliant colouration, said boy stood out like a sore thumb, although no one seemed to pay him any attention other than a furtive disdainful glance, probably because of the jittery behaviour that made him look as if he didn't belong here.

Another was… some beast-man? Or an incredibly buff individual wearing a boar hide mask. Most likely the latter, although Sora couldn't deny that it would be cool to meet a beast-man. Either way, it wasn't hard to see how he stood out. He was half-naked and wearing only a pair of partially ragged pants, exposing his muscled body to plain view. Attached to his waist was a sleek katana with white cloth bandages for a handgrip, one edge chipped away to form crude jags along the side, reminiscent of fangs and claws. Said person was stomping around impatiently, his fingers twitching on the sword's handgrip as if he were itching for a thrilling fight.

As for the other two… they were distinct to Sora that was unlike the two boys he noticed earlier.

While the former duo was conspicuous because of their questionable choice in fashion and their behaviour, they - the latter dyad - blended in with the crowd well. It was only because of the attraction of familiarity, as Sora had dubbed the feeling of déjà vu whenever he was around certain individuals like Nezuko before she awakened her memories as Xion, was he able to pick them out.

Speaking of which, this rough-looking boy with a large jagged scar that ran from his right cheek all the way to his nose certainly looked like he could find his place among the ill-tempered candidates. His hair was shaved into a buzz cut, except for the top of his head where a dark messy clump of hair was allowed to grow out and swept to the side. Dark, slanted eyes gave off a demonic vibe that complemented his aloof demeanour well. If he didn't know any better, Sora would have thought he was a demon posing as a human.

The last person who caught his eye was a girl who wore her ebony hair in a side ponytail, held in place by a butterfly hair ornament. Despite having a naturally gentle appearance, her smiles and expressions felt robotic… empty even, as if she truly felt nothing. Sora shuddered at the thought; encounters with the Greater Nobodies was more than enough for him. He didn't want, and _need,_ to experience another fight against them.

Deep down, Sora fervently prayed that he would get the opportunity to meet them sometime soon.

Suddenly, a sharp jab into his ribs startled him out of his thoughts. He yelped, glaring at the culprit as he nursed his sore chest gingerly.

"What was that for?!" he hissed, not amused by the sneak attack.

"You were spacing out, that's what!" snapped Xion irritably, hands on her hips and leaning slightly towards his face. "So, spill! What's on your mind?"

"You see them?"

"Who?"

"That guy with the buzz cut and slanted eyes, looks kinda like a demon, and a girl with a butterfly hairpin."

Xion scanned the crowd, trying to pick out the individuals that matched Sora's description. A few moments after, she nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, I saw them. What about it?"

"Don't they feel familiar to you?" asked Sora, scratching the side of his head.

She hummed thoughtfully, before giving her final verdict. "No."

He opened his mouth, about to reiterate his words when Xion followed up with her single-worded response.

"But…" Xion trailed off, swaying on her feet. "Since you felt that way, then at least they probably had some connection to you. You felt that way with me, yet you didn't recognise me prior to that night. I definitely didn't know who I was before then. Maybe it's because of that?"

"Maybe," agreed Sora, crossing his arms. "It's selfish of me, but I wished they were all here with us. Riku, Kairi, Roxas… everyone else."

"Me too," whispered Xion, wistfulness creeping into her quiet voice. She perked when the crowds fell silent. "Oh! It's starting!"

All eyes were on two near-identical girls carrying paper lanterns. Had it not for the fact the two girls had contrasting hair colours, one having snow white hair and the other jet black, they could have easily passed as identical twins. They stood underneath the entrance torii, expressions frozen in a perpetual courteous smile. Both of them had matching attires, donning a dark purple kimono with floral motifs and identical wisteria hair ornaments in their evenly cut hair.

"Greetings, everyone," they chanted in unison. "We thank you for coming here tonight."

 _Okay, that's creepy,_ thought Sora, fighting off a chill up his spine. Beside him, Xion sent a light jab into his ribs, telepathically admonishing him for his rude comment.

"Mt. Fujikasane holds demons that are captured alive by demon slayers," explained the black-haired girl mechanically.

"Demons detest wisteria, which blooms here all-year round," continued the one with the white hair. "They cover the mountain from its foot all the way to its waist."

" _Was that why you looked so freaked out back there?"_

" _Yes. I still am now."_

" _Figures."_ sighed Sora, fondly ruffling Xion's hair. She squirmed underneath his touch, but otherwise made no attempt to stop him.

"However, from this point onwards, no wisteria blooms. So demons roam free at the upper regions," their voices merged into that eerie singular chorus once more. "You must survive there for seven days. If you do, then you will have passed the Final Selection."

They paused for a moment, letting the information sink into the participants' minds, before resuming their opening address.

"Now, the Demon Slayers Corps' Final Selection shall commence. We wish you all the best of luck."

That had been the phrase all the participants had been anticipating for. A solemn aura descended on the area, each of them knowing the full weight of taking part in this deadly examination. No one moved, still preparing themselves for a week of cruel survival. Some minutes after, a boy was the first to pass through the checkpoint marking the entrance to the top half of the mountain - the imprisoned demons' playground. Apparently emboldened by his courageous act, the rest soon followed his lead, sombrely stepping past the checkpoint.

Sora gave Xion a sideways glance. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she answered without a shred of hesitation. "We've been waiting so long for this. No backing out now."

"With pleasure," smiled Sora knowingly, his fist tightening with resolve. "Let's go, shall we?"

Xion hummed in agreement. They were one of the last ones to join into the fray, so they were eager to catch up to their peers to make up for lost time. However, just as they were about to enter the dark demon-infested wilderness, they were stopped by the dark-haired usher.

"Wait, Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado," he requested.

The two siblings halted, bodies stiffening with paranoia and fear. Perspiration rolled down Sora's neck in fat beads. Were they going to hold him back from taking part, because he brought in a demon? Or were they going to do something far worse to Xion, something so terrible that his imagination failed to conjure up a scenario? He gulped inaudibly, waiting and dreading for the worst.

"Please leave your box here with us," the white-haired twin instructed calmly. "You may have it back once the Final Selection ends."

Sora exhaled a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, out of sheer relief. Xion swayed slightly on her feet, apparently just as relieved as he was. Fluidly, he unslung the box from his shoulders and handed it to one usher with both hands.

"It'll be in your care, then," he said politely. It might be a trick of the light, but was there an amused twinkle in the ushers' blank unfocused eyes?

"Rest assured, we will take excellent care of it," stated the pale-haired girl.

"Nezuko will be allowed to return just before sunrise at the end of the seventh night, due to her unique condition," added her black-haired twin. "Her initiation will be done separately. Once it is complete, she may rest inside her box."

"Thank you," both siblings replied gratefully, bowing slightly.

"Now, go for your Final Selection. You two are behind," they chorused, bowing in farewell.

"Of course. Let's go, Nezuko."

Xion nodded, tailing after Sora as they took their first step into the dreary forest, fully prepared to take on any demon foolish enough to attack them.

* * *

"Oh jeez, they never stop coming!" groaned Sora, panting with a hand over his pounding chest as he leant against a cave wall, exhausted.

Not even five minutes in and they were ambushed all over by ravenous demons. Usually that shouldn't be a problem, since both Sora and Xion were expecting ambushes. The problem was that none of them were expecting attacks to be _this_ frequent, with little to no breaks in-between. Within less than an hour, both siblings had run themselves ragged from trying to outrun and fending off all the demons who seemed drawn towards them like ants to sugar.

The only comfort they could seek from this abysmal situation was that their foes always squabbled over who gets the first kill. Not to mention one of the few advantages they had.

After taking down the nth horde, Sora and Xion decided to just focus on finding a small territory to stick to for the week, rather than wander around and risk encountering another seemingly endless wave of demons thirsting for their blood. Eventually, they found a perfect spot for them to camp in: a cave deep enough to keep sunlight out throughout the day. Sora slumped against the wall near the entrance as soon as he entered, deliriously pleased to finally be able to catch a breather. Xion settled for the deepest and darkest corner, curling up in her preferred spot like a cat.

"You said it," grumbled Xion, voicing her displeasure. "Now I wish I was back in the wisteria forest…"

"You would rather spend a week surrounded by something you despise than fight?" exclaimed Sora, surprised.

"No, yes! I mean…" she stumbled over her words, trying to piece them together to form a coherent sentence. "I don't mind fighting; just not one after the other like a freaking TV marathon."

"Hey, at least you don't have to clear out 10,000 of 'em," teased Sora, lilting with subtle sarcasm. "Just to get to the final big bad."

Xion stared at him blankly, processing what he'd said until she let out a quiet 'oh' in recognition.

"I almost forgot that Xehanort sicced 10,000 enemies onto you guys." she laughed softly, her scent mixed with sheepishness and nostalgia. "Must be tough."

Sora grunted affirmatively, crossing his arms and glancing outside. It was still dark outside, the full moon hanging overhead like a luminescent silver disc. Still hours away from sunrise, it seems. Best course of action would be to rest up and stock up on necessities during the day and stay on guard at night. And of course, venture out if they hear a call for help.

It was logical for Xion to take the night shift, since she was weak to sunlight, but Sora didn't want to take the risk of losing a long-lost friend. She was the first to reunite with him, and so her wellbeing takes precedence in his priority. At least, until they've found the rest of the Guardians. None of them knew how long it would take, but they're willing to wait for as long as needed. Then, he would give his due apologies to all of them at once.

For making them worry unnecessarily. Especially Kairi… Sora grimaced, remorse stinging him as he thought back to how heartbroken she looked when he faded away.

"Thinking about that day again?" asked Xion, and Sora felt her arms wrapping gently around his waist. Something wet trickled down his left cheek.

Sora did not respond, instead he pulled out Kairi's wayfinder from his pocket. Xion gasped when she saw it, releasing her comforting grip around him. She said nothing for a tense moment, too stunned to even come up with a proper reaction. The scent of awkwardness filled the room, mixing with the damp mustiness of the cave.

"Is that…" she stuttered, uncertainty lacing her words. "How did you find that?"

"I found it after I beat Sabito in a duel," answered Sora, the corners of his lips twitching into a wistful smile. "But I remember giving this wayfinder back to Kairi just before I was banished. There's no way that he could get his hands on it."

Xion was silent, ruminating over his words. Moments after, she tentatively suggested, "Perhaps she gave it to someone?"

"That doesn't explain how it ended up with Sabito," frowned Sora, turning around to face Xion. Then, a smile cracked through the perplexed frown. "Still, I'm glad he gave it back. Now I have something to remember her by."

Underneath her mask, Xion's face lit up with a smile of her own. One that was full of relief and nostalgia. It was a comforting sight, to see that Sora was just as optimistic as ever and never held down by sadness for long. Deep down, she hoped that he stayed the same, for his own sake and for the others' as well. Their group just wouldn't be the same if there was no cheerful, happy-go-lucky Sora to ease up the occasional tension festering within them. Xion herself didn't know Sora for as long as Riku or Kairi, but the way he acted around her, it was as if they had been friends for years. Even though their official first meeting was in the Keyblade Graveyard, as two warriors fighting on opposing sides.

Her blood chilled at the last phrase. _On opposing sides…_ It echoed, over and over, inside her mind, tormenting her relentlessly with horrific scenarios. Xion was a demon, and Sora was a promising candidate for the Demon Slayers Corps. That made them technical enemies in a centuries-long war. And yet here they were, fighting on the same side. What if her demonic urges suddenly surfaced so strongly that she wouldn't be able to restrain herself?

What would become of her then, or the better question should be, what would become of Sora? Or those who had vouched for her?

Their plans could all fall apart because of _that._ They would never be able to find the others. Their friends will never remember who they were, and what they had lost. A fleeting thought entered Xion's mind.

_What if Sora never woke up? How would it be different? Would he happily remain as merely Tanjiro, the eldest son of a charcoal maker, without the guilt of his failures from a past life eating up at him? Would their family still end up the same: brutally murdered by the hands of an ancient, cruel demon? Would she even have just as much control over herself?_

"Hey, hey, you're spacing out," said Sora, snapping his fingers in front of Xion. She flinched, still dazed from her reverie.

"Come now, don't think about 'what ifs'. What's done is done," he said solemnly, gazing straight into Xion. His usual childish demeanour slipped off, and something else took its place. "We're here already, aren't we? Let's just do our best to survive and pass the Final Selection."

"I know, but…" she trailed off, twiddling her fingers hesitantly. "I was thinking about why we were here, reborn as someone else only to recall our past lives."

"Maybe it's destiny, or whatever," he shrugged nonchalantly. "We may never know. All I know is that we should make the most of it."

"You're right," smiled Xion.

None of them exchanged another word after that, content to occupy themselves with their thoughts. Sora's, in particular, lingered on the four people he picked out from the sea of candidates. Out of the four, only two gave him an inexplicable sense of familiarity, yet he couldn't remember anyone that he knew who matches their demeanour. If Sora had the chance, he would like to talk to them.

By the time he finished his introspection, the sky had lit up. Sora perked, a wave of relief washed upon him. Finally!

"Oh look, the sun's rising already!"

Xion immediately retreated into the darkest corner she could find, hissing slightly in discontentment. Sora chuckled, amused. For some reason, her transformation into a demon made her act more like a cat than a person in certain times.

"Rest up, Xion. you deserve it," he whispered, but loud enough for her to hear him from a distance. "You'll need all the strength you can get for the next night."

She hummed obediently, plopping herself onto the wall. Almost as soon as she closed her eyes, she was snoring away, face tranquil and devoid of any worries, as it should be. Sora took in the surreal sight, trying to savour it for as long as he could before his own exhaustion caught up with him. He had done his best to stave it off throughout the night because he knew it was dangerous for him to fall asleep during the demons' active periods.

Yawning, Sora stretched, folded his hands behind his head and slept.

* * *

Sora awoke with a start to a shrill scream, so startled that he fell face-first into the dirt. Spluttering in disgust, he wiped his face with one hand as he felt for his katana with the other. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the smooth scabbard, Sora raced off towards the source of the cry, blinking off the last remnants of dirt off his eyes and hastily throwing a promise to return as quickly as possible to a groggy Xion.

Millions of thoughts rushed through his mind. It was late morning already, so no demons would roam around at this hour. So what else could it be? A hungry wild animal? Or someone unfortunate enough to fall into a sinkhole too steep for them to crawl out?

What he saw was something he didn't expect. Not in a million years.

Instead of seeing some hapless person cornered to a dead end by a wild animal or a sinkhole, the one who cried for help was the blond boy Sora noticed from the gathering spot, up on a tree branch and clinging onto it like grim death. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, the boy muttered something Sora could not make head nor tail of.

"Uh… are you alright?" asked Sora, wondering if he should leave the blond there or not. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm so done with this!" shrieked the boy suddenly, scaring a few birds. Sora took a few steps back in shock.

"Uh… hello?" said Sora, raising his volume in the hopes that the boy would notice him. "Are you okay up there?"

"I'm gonna die here, I'm gonna die here…" he wailed melodramatically, clutching his head in terror. Sora frowned, crossing his arms in annoyance. This boy was clearly driving himself into a panic with his own imagination.

"HEY!" he yelled at the boy, finally having enough. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT UP THERE?"

The boy flinched, nearly falling off his branch before steadying himself. He looked at Sora with his still-teary eyes, trying and failing to muster up an angry glare.

"What was that for?" he hiccuped, hugging the branch tighter. "Why does everything here want me to die?"

"Don't be so dramatic," snapped Sora, not at all impressed. "No one here wants you to die, except for demons."

"Exactly!" he screamed, freaking out even more. "This place is chock full of them! There's no way I can survive for a week here!"

"Will you just get down from that tree already?" sighed Sora, exasperated. "It won't help you much."

"No! What if the demons get me?!"

"It's daytime, for goodness' sake! No demon in their right mind would be out walking in the sun," exclaimed Sora, almost at the end of his patience. "Why are you even here, if you're not even ready?"

"That's because I _wasn't_ ready!" screamed the blond, hugging his branch like a koala. "Heck, I didn't even _want_ to become a demon slayer! My gramps forced me to come here! Why did I ever land myself neck-deep in debts?!"

"Are you coming down or not?" asked Sora, his word dripping with thick annoyance.

"Never!"

Sora let out a resigned sigh. He unsheathed his katana, taking on a battle ready stance as he pointed his blade to the direction of the branch. The blond froze with terror at the sight, shivering like a leaf and clutching his branch even tighter than before. He gawked at Sora with wide eyes, unadulterated fear evident in them.

"What… what are you doing?" he asked nervously, staring at Sora's blade with wide unblinking eyes.

"Getting you down here," he stated calmly.

Eyes trailing onto the tree trunk, Sora focused, mentally mapping out the movements needed to slice down the branch. While he no longer could pull off an Airstep, as his powers went away with the loss of his Keyblade, the Total Concentration Breathing technique could boost Sora's strength and agility just enough to make a crude replica of it.

He drew in a deep breath, concentrating on a spot on a conveniently placed log. At the crack of an imaginary gunshot, Sora sped off, his focus never wavering from that single locus. Just when it seemed as if he was about to collide against the trunk, he leapt, planting both firmly on the spot where he had been focusing on. Then, he sprung off using the trunk as a springboard, tucking himself into a forward mid-air roll, readying his sword to execute the Water Breathing Style.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Second Form: Water Wheel!_

Using the buildup of momentum from the spin, Sora slashed at the area where the branch connected with the tree. It yielded easily to his blade like warm butter, separating the wooden appendage from its owner. The boy attached to it gave a yelp of surprise as he fell along with his branch, crashing onto the ground and laying flat in a prone position.

The former Keyblade wielder landed on his feet a short distance away. Immediately, he ran over to the boy to check up on him. The latter still hasn't budged from his position, face still planted firmly into the dirt.

"Why must you be so mean?" he whined, his nasally voice muffled.

"You weren't listening to a word I say, that's why," grumbled Sora, arms crossed and his foot tapping impatiently. He softened his voice. "Listen. Why don't we stick together for the entire Final Selection?"

"Really?" perked the blond, looking up at Sora with a disbelieving gaze. "You mean it?"

"Yes," nodded Sora. "But on one condition: you have to fight on your own. I'm not going to fight every single battle for you."

"What's the point then?!" he wailed, bursting into tears once again.

Sora shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around how in Light's name had he ended up participating in a fatal examination. He sighed, mentally bracing for a potential volley of high-pitched whinings and pointless complainings.

"Because it's a test to see who's ready to become a demon slayer," he stated matter-of-factly. "Your gramps most probably wouldn't send you here if you're not ready. Have a little faith in yourself."

"I don't even want to be here," he whined childishly, plopping his face back into the shallow depression on the ground.

"Well, you're here now. You can't change that," said Sora, crouching down and looking straight at him. "The least you can do is to make an effort to fight and survive. I can't help you with that; not until you help yourself first. So what will it be? Would you rather rot here in shame, or go down knowing that you tried?"

He looked conflicted upon that dilemma. The way his brows were all scrunched up in focus, and how his childish demeanour had worn off, it was safe to say that Sora had hit a critical point. Still, it wasn't enough to get him to buck up.

Alright, desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Huh," shrugged Sora, putting in as much disdain in his tone as he could. "What a disappointment. I suppose your gramps is a horrible Cultivator, if he was the one who trained you."

"What?!"

Hook.

"How dare you say that!" the blond cried in outrage. Within seconds, he stood to full height, jabbing a furious finger into Sora's face. "For your information, he is the best in the world! What do you know about him?!"

Line.

"Oh yeah?" challenged Sora, smirking contemptuously at him. "Why don't you prove it? Show me you're not so weak that you whine non-stop about your woes and not lifting a finger to help yourself."

"Fine!" he spat, after a moment's hesitance. Inwardly, Sora cheered at his success.

Sinker!

"Glad to see that you've wised up," smiled Sora, dropping the condescending façade. "I'm Tanjiro. Tanjiro Kamado. What's your name?"

Sora, to this day, still cringed whenever he introduces himself with this alias. Even after being addressed by this name for years, there was still a sense of detachment to it whenever it left his mouth. To be fair, it wasn't even his name! It had belonged to the boy whose position he had accidentally replaced. Just being here gave him a profound sense of guilt… guilt over the fact that an innocent boy was the price to pay for his second chance at life.

"…Zenitsu Agatsuma," the blond introduced himself. "Why did you do that?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, why do you do all of that, just to get me to buck up?" clarified Zenitsu. "You could have just left me up on that branch!"

"Well… I just don't like leaving people in the lurch, especially if I know I could have done something," replied Sora cheerfully, folding his hands behind his head. "I failed more than enough people as it is. I don't need another failure to my name."

"Whoever did you fail?" questioned Zenitsu.

Sora stilled for a second, the weight of his offhand comments finally registering in his mind. Internally berating himself, he forced a bright smile on his face, pretending that he hadn't just slipped up.

"Nothing!" he dismissed a tad too quickly. "Just thinking aloud. Don't mind me."

His new companion didn't seem to buy it, but let it slip anyway. Sora was grateful for that; he didn't want to face the uncomfortable parts of his past. At least, not yet. And besides, no one would believe him. No one, not even a single soul, except for his old friends and comrades-in-arms.

"So… where do we go?" asked Zenitsu, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"Follow me," said Sora, gesturing towards the direction of his makeshift base. "There's a cave over there which acts as my base."

"You're living in a cave?" balked Zenitsu, trailing behind Sora as they walked back to the cave.

"We could have just wandered around, but my sister has a condition that prevents her from walking in broad daylight," explained Sora, not tearing his eyes off the road. "So we need a shelter to stay in during the day. Besides, it's easier to just stick to a small territory."

"You have a sister? Is she pretty?"

"See for yourself," laughed Sora. "But really, don't flirt with her. She might wallop you."

"Yeesh," he shuddered. "Sounds like the bat-shit crazy type."

"Nah," disagreed Sora, shaking his head. "She's actually really sweet when you get to know her."

"You're not saying that because you're her brother, right?"

"Nope."

 _The truth is, she didn't become my sibling until some years ago. Before that, we were friends. Well, we know each other well enough to call ourselves friends, but you don't need to know that,_ Sora remarked to himself.

"Here we are," announced Sora brightly, leading Zenitsu inside the cave.

It looked like nothing came in during his absence. Everything stayed the same, except for Xion. Instead of leaning against the wall, she now slumped onto the ground, snoring softly away, her hands folded beneath her head to act as a makeshift pillow. Her mask was still on, so it made her look like a fox kit taking a nap. Her katana, once propped against the wall, now lay haphazardly on the ground, beside her sleeping form.

"Ah, looks like she's still asleep," he remarked to himself with a slight smile.

The first thing Sora did was carefully adjust her back to her original position. She grunted and stirred slightly, but did not wake up. He hoped that she remained asleep until the evening. After all, no point for her to be awake in a time she couldn't do much.

"That's your sister?" whispered Zenitsu suddenly into Sora's ear.

He jumped, startled, pressing a hand over his chest. Glowering, he hissed back, "Give me a warning next time!"

"She's cute," complimented the blond dreamily, transfixed by the sleeping girl. Sora balked at his statement.

"Please, Zenitsu. For your sake and for mine," pleaded Sora, colour gradually draining from his face. "Never say that out loud. You'll rue the day you make that mistake."

"Why do you say it as if you're getting _it_ as well?"

"You'll understand why later," he shivered.

No one, emphasis on absolutely _no one,_ expected Roxas to be so damn over-protective. One time, some lecherous guy had the audacity to openly flirt with Xion. Unfortunately for him, Roxas was with her and saw everything. Shit hit the fan, and let's just say that guy was lucky to be hospitalised for a dislocated jaw and a snapped nose bridge.

Sora heard about it second-hand from Lea, but he had a tendency to exaggerate events. Somehow, unlike previous times, it did not detract from its credibility. That was the scary part. It was paradoxically believable and yet not. Roxas may share a lot of characteristics with Sora, but unlike his original persona, he was notorious for his quick and fiery temper when it came to certain sensitive topics. Harassing (which includes anything that could be interpreted as shameless flirting) Xion was one of them.

If he was indeed in this world with them… well, better warn them early than never.

"She's not taken, is she?"

"You kidding me?" wheezed Sora, in disbelief and amusement. For a snivelling serial whiner, Zenitsu was surprisingly a brazen womaniser. "You haven't even met her properly! Heck, you don't even know her name, and you're asking whether she's available?"

"Can't a guy hope?" retorted Zenitsu, sitting cross-legged on the ground. "At least I'm asking you for permission before making my move!"

"I'm not the right person to ask," cautioned Sora sagely. "She may be family, but she isn't my property. She's her _own person._ Why don't you ask her when she wakes up?"

_Though, I think she'll slap you, then tell you she's taken already… I did warn you that she wallops anyone daring to act brazen towards her._

He smiled to himself. With Zenitsu around, their week here is going to get extremely interesting…

* * *

Xion didn't wake until dusk was nearing its end.

Before then, Sora had scouted out the geography of their area, mentally mapping out the landmarks and slashing out marks on trees to form a trail. Zenitsu tagged after him, assisting him by adding on a pair of sharp ears to scout out the landscape.

Within two hours, they had a rough map of their surroundings sketched out in their minds. Eight hundred paces northeast from the cave was a lake. A stone's throw away from the lake, possibly not more than a hundred meters, was a small bamboo grove. Aside from these notable sites, there was nothing else that was interesting or remotely useful for survival.

As daylight whittled away, the two boys began to gather supplies for the night and for the days after.

Zenitsu went off to gather firewood and to cut down a few sturdy bamboo stalks to make some water containers, while Sora went to the lake to catch fish. At first, the latter had wanted to spear them. However, after one too many unsuccessful tries, he ditched the spear in frustration and resorted to the good old-fashioned way: catching them with his bare hands.

To no one's surprise, the second method was far more fruitful. Within minutes, a small pile of fish gathered at the bank, just a little more than enough for them to last for a few days. Xion, as a demon, didn't need to eat a lot. One or two fish would be enough to sate her hunger for several days, provided that she doesn't overexert herself in battle and recuperates frequently. Her general rule of eating less might change in stressful conditions like now, considering that they were challenged by demons left and right.

 _Maybe just a couple more,_ thought Sora. _Xion's appetite might increase in these physically demanding times._

After tossing up a few more fish, Sora quickly gathered them up in a single scoop and raced back to the cave. By then, the sun started to sink in the horizon. Evening is fast approaching, and by extension the demons would begin their hunts soon. He would need to make haste if he wishes to avoid any fights.

To his surprise, the first thing that greeted Sora upon his arrival was to see an already awake Xion and Zenitsu chatting amicably near the entrance.

"Oh, Tanjiro!" greeted Zenitsu. "Looks like you got a big haul."

"Impressive, right?" said Sora with a grin. "So you two met, huh? Officially, I mean."

"Yeah, we did," agreed Xion, scratching the sides of her cheek. "When I first saw Zenitsu, I thought he was some weird mutated dandelion, with how odd his hairstyle is…"

"That's mean!" grumbled Zenitsu, turning his head away in mock offense. "You and your brother."

"Your choice in fashion tastes aside," sighed Sora, shaking his head in exasperation before switching into a light-hearted tone. "Did you sleep well, Nezuko?"

"Yep," she chirped sprightly. "I'm ready to fight for the entire night!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he teased, settling down on the ground and joining the small circle. "Weren't you complaining about the hordes last night?"

"Oh shush," huffed Xion in mock anger. "So did you."

"Wait, you got mobbed by demons?" gaped Zenitsu, mortified.

"Oh, it's nothing," Sora waved dismissively. "We've faced worse than that."

"You call that _nothing?"_ screeched Zenitsu, deliriously grabbing Sora by the shoulders and shaking him violently. "How in the whole wide world are you still alive?! Or worse, why did you bring your cute little sister into something so dangerous?"

"Let go of my brother, Zenitsu!" cried Xion, alarmed by how Sora's face was turning purple from lack of air. "You're going to suffocate him!"

"Oh," he said lamely, releasing his hold on him once he realised that Sora had been choking for air the entire time.

"What's wrong with you?" gasped Sora, rubbing his sore neck. "Anyway, we should start a fire now. It's almost nighttime."

Silently agreeing, the trio went to work. A while after, a roaring flame was ignited, burning proudly outside the cave just as the darkness descended. They skewered a few fish with sharpened sticks to roast them over the fire. While they were waiting for their meal to cook, their previous conversation was brought up once again.

"Hey, Nezuko?"

"Mmph?" Xion glanced towards Zenitsu.

"Why do you and Tanjiro wear those fox masks?"

"These are warding masks," explained Sora, pointing at his own. "Our master made them for us before we left for the Final Selection. He said it could ward off any evil that would befall us."

"I just wear it on the side of my head because I don't like having something over my face," added Sora. "Nezuko, on the other hand…"

"I'm… a bit self-conscious about my face," she lied, drawing out her voice to make it sound hesitant. "That's why I wear it all the time."

"I see," he nodded. "Then, what about the time when Tanjiro said you and him faced 'something worse' before?"

The two siblings exchanged uncomfortable glances. The silence dragged out awkwardly, to the point that Zenitsu shifted uneasily at his place. To his immense relief, Xion eventually broke the awkward silence.

"We'll tell you about it when we're ready," she replied evasively, not daring to meet Zenitsu in the eye. "It's complicated."

They never said another word after that, opting to eat in silence. Xion had retreated into the cave to eat, not wanting Zenitsu to see her demonic fangs. The blond looked extremely confused when the girl walked into the cave, badgering for her to stay. She shook her head, silently disappearing into the darkness of the cave.

"Don't worry," comforted Sora, placing a reassuring hand on Zenitsu's shoulder. "She'll come out once she's done eating."

"How bad is her appearance anyway?" he snapped. "For her to shy away from people whenever she had to take off her mask."

Sora didn't know how to respond to that. He knew that Xion loathed herself for becoming an abomination of nature, a cruel joke played upon her that incidentally reminded her of the time she was a mere puppet crafted from his memories. It was evident from how she would never look at a mirror for any longer than it was necessary, or how she always tucks away her hands whenever they were not needed.

"…Very," Sora gave that answer, as he bit off the last bit of flesh from his roasted fish. "It was so bad, only a few are willing to accept her."

"I wouldn't shun her!" proclaimed Zenitsu, jumping to his feet emotionally. "I think she's beautiful, no matter what she looks like!"

 _Do you really?,_ questioned Sora bitterly. _Are you brave enough to face her for what she is? You, who claims to cower at anything that can bring you harm. Even Giyuu tried to kill her the first time we met… because he initially saw her for what she could be instead of who she really is._

"If only there were more people who think like that," mused Sora wistfully, absent-mindedly jabbing his stick at the fire.

A pungent rotting stench permeated through the air, followed quickly by a fearful scream. Alert, Sora sprang to his feet, clutching his katana tightly as he scanned the surroundings for impending threats. Zenitsu shivered, momentarily paralysed by fear, before he snapped out of his fear-stricken stupor just enough to grab his own weapon. Behind them, Xion frantically hurried out of the cave, armed and anticipating a battle.

Some rustling prompted them to shift their undivided attention to its direction, hands hovering on their hilts, ready to draw them out at a moment's notice. A boy, perhaps a year younger than Sora, burst into the clearing, terror painted all over his face.

"Run!" he shouted at them urgently. "There's a huge, deformed demon back there! I've never seen anything like it! Get away before it eats you too! That thing's neck is impossible to cut through!"

"A deformed demon?" stuttered Zenitsu, his voice so feeble that he almost sounded like he was going to pass out.

A deafening crash resounded from the direction where the boy had emerged from. Screaming fearfully, he tried to pick up speed, only to stumble over in his panic to get away. He frantically picked himself up, just as a hulking green demon shuffled into the clearing, knocking down a few trees that were in its way.

Nothing can truly describe just how _revolting_ this demon was in appearance. Most demons had a humanoid form, but this onewas so mutated that 'monster' would be a more apt term to fully represent what it is. Arms as thick as logs sprouted all over it, wrapping around the olive green demon's body like armour and concealing most of his features. Rather than claws, blood red fingernails tipped its fingers. The only parts that were visible aside from his bulky arms were a portion of his veiny head and disgusting yellow eyes. Instead of slitted pupils like most demons, this one had cross-hatches.

"Oh. My. God. What is that thing?!" screeched Zenitsu, his hands trembling from sheer horror. "This thing shouldn't be here!"

"Focus, Zenitsu!" chided Xion, readying her stance.

"R-right!"

Cackling maniacally, the Hand Demon (as Sora dubbed it) launched one of its arms towards the fleeing boy, grabbing him by the ankle. It dangled the boy upside down, leering at him with those sickening eyes, his eyes set in a sadistic grin.

"Hey! Let him go!" ordered Sora, rushing into the fray.

Drawing in a deep breath, he activated the Total Concentration Breathing once again. Picking up speed to build up momentum, Sora raised his katana, preparing a strike. He leapt as soon as he was within striking range, mentally calling out the technique he was about to unleash.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Eight Form: Waterfall Basin!_

Mustering all of his strength, he brought down his blade in a vertical slash, slicing the appendage clean off. The severed hand fell with a thud. Shockingly enough, the demon didn't seem deterred by the pain. Eyes blazing with fury, it thrust another hand in his direction, fully intent on knocking Sora aside and out of the way. His eyes widened when he saw the incoming attack. There was no way he could evade it in time!

"Breath of Thunder, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!"

A flash of lightning dashed past Sora, crackling with untapped energy, and slashed off the hand that would have otherwise struck him. Gaping with awe, he briefly wondered who pulled off that move. It was strangely reminiscent of a lightning-based attack that a Keyblade Wielder could pull off. Sora remembered using a similar attack before, but he couldn't recall the exact name.

Regaining his footing, Sora peered through the flare, trying to see who used that impressive attack. It died down, revealing a silhouette of a very familiar figure crouching…

"Zenitsu?!" cried Sora in shock.

_So you really are downplaying your capabilities, huh? I wonder why._

"Hmm?" crooned the demon, studying Sora intently, like he was judging whether he was good quality prey. "Looks like another one of his little foxes came to pay me a visit."

"Back off!" snarled Xion, stomping over to stand by Sora.

"Ooh, _two_ foxes this year?" it cheered, squinting its eyes with sadistic glee. "This is getting better and better!"

It stared at the two siblings. "Tell me, my dear foxes. What Meiji emperor sits upon the throne, right now?"

"Meiji?!" exclaimed Xion, doing a double-take in shock.

"The current Imperial family is Taisho!" Sora burst out suddenly, eyes wide.

"Graaaaaagh!" the demon screeched, slamming his multiple hands onto the ground in outrage. "I've been here for so long… so long that the dynasties had risen and fallen!"

"Again and again! All while I was trapped here, left here to wallow in my misery!" it bellowed, slamming on the ground with even more gusto. "Unforgivable! Damn you, Urokodaki! Damn you!"

"How did you know Urokodaki?" demanded Xion, pointing her katana at the demon.

"Know him?!" it remarked, eyes narrowing as if offended. "Of course I know him! He was the one who captured and trapped me here in this godforsaken mountain, back when he was a demon slayer! I've been here for 47 years, back in the Keio Era of the Edo Period!"

"Lies!" cried the boy, trembling. "No demon in this mountain lived for this long! They only place demons that have eaten two or three at most, and then they get killed during the Selection! Some of them even resort to eating each other!"

"Oh ho, but I did survive for this long. In this prison of wisteria blossoms," drawled the demon, bringing its arms closer. "I've even eaten fifty of you brats!"

"Fifty!" cried Sora. _No wonder he reeks!_

"Hmm…" it looked pointedly at Sora and Xion once again, raising some of his fingers as if mentally counting something. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen…"

"So that makes you two number fourteen and fifteen," concluded the demon, clapping two of his hands in glee. "Oh, how I wish I could see the look of horror and grief on his face!"

"What are you…" demanded Sora, glaring into the demon's yellow eyes.

"That's how many of Urokodaki's students I have consumed!" it proclaimed, waving its arms wildly. "Since he caused my misery, so I thought it proper to return the favour by killing all of his beloved foxes!"

"You…" growled Xion, her voice beginning to grow guttural.

" _Xion, calm down,"_ commanded Sora, via their mental link. _"You can't turn here."_

She gave a quiet snarl in response.

"But, there were two of them I remember very well," it admitted. "One brat had a colourful haori, and he was the strongest I've encountered thus far. He had peach-coloured hair and a scar by his mouth. Another was a brat-girl who wears a flower-patterned kimono; petite and not very strong, but she was very agile."

"Isn't that… Sabito and Makomo?!" gasped Xion, backpedalling in shock and horror. "But how? They trained us, back in Mt. Sagiri!"

"I could always recognise his students by the fox masks they wear," declared the Hand Demon gleefully. "They're all carved in the same way as his tengu mask! Ironic that he called those a 'warding mask'. I ate all of his students because of those masks! It's like he fed them to me!"

It giggled madly, as if finding that sick irony amusing. Underneath their breaths, Sora and Xion growled in fury. The latter was almost losing herself from rage, with how shaky her stance had become. Shaking, she whispered her last words as the last of her rationality slipped away to make way for rage, cutting sharply through the tense air.

"You bastard," she muttered through gritted teeth, her breaths growing heavy and laboured.

"Xion, no!" hissed Sora, realising what she was about to do. "You'll hurt yourself!"

"YOU BASTARD!" she roared, pouncing on the Hand Demon like an enraged beast. Her sword clattered to the ground, forgotten.

Fully brandishing her elongated claws, Xion lunged for the demon with a bestial snarl. Taken aback, it stared at her stunned, but quickly recovered. With a vicious downward swipe, it swatted the demoness to the ground, pinning her mercilessly onto the ground. She struggled, spitting and growling as she futilely flailed to regain her freedom of movement.

"Oh, my, what do we have here?" it taunted, leering at Xion. "A demon pretending to be a demon slayer? Urokodaki has really sunk low, hadn't he?"

"Let her go!" yelled Sora, his face contorted with rage.

Driven by anger, he ran straight towards where Xion was with reckless abandon. The demon's arms shot towards him, aiming to crush him into a bloody puddle with a single move. Undeterred, Sora glared at the many appendages trying to stop him from getting to his target. He concentrated, channeling his strength into his sword as he mentally called out his attack.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Fourth Form: Striking Tide!_

With a fluid grace, Sora slashed at the arms lunging for him, littering the ground with bloody severed hands and filling the clearing with squelches of steel against flesh. He gritted his teeth, doing his best to plough through the seemingly endless hindrances set against him. So focused on what was in front of him, that he failed to notice a stray arm heading towards him from the side in time. By the time he did, it had rammed into his sides, sending him on a collision course into a tree trunk.

Sora cried out in pain, feeling his back and head painfully colliding against the trunk. A sickening crunch resounded as he fell to the ground, and he felt shards of his mask falling from the side of his head. Horror clawed at his heart as a surge of pain flared from his right ankle.

Dazedly, he glanced up, seeing multiple arms hurtling at him at speeds that he couldn't possibly evade at this current state. Despairing, he fell onto his knees, watching the arms heading towards him with blank eyes.

" _Sora! Focus!"_ chided a familiar voice in the distance. _"You can do it. I know you can. After all, you are the one who sliced the biggest and thickest boulder of all!"_

" _Sabito!"_ cried Sora, dumbfounded.

" _Please. Get up!"_ pleaded another familiar voice that he recognised as Makomo's. _"Use the Total Concentration Breathing to numb your pain. You can't let it end just like this!"_

Following their lead, Sora could hear his late family chorusing their support to him, pleading at him not to give up.

 _They're right, I can't give up,_ thought Sora, gritting his teeth as he retrieved his fallen katana by his feet. _I didn't come so far to let it all go to waste. Riku, Kairi, the others_ … _wait for me!_

Glaring at the multitude of arms, Sora steadied his breathing, taking Makomo's advice. The pain dulled into a weak throb, allowing him to finally stand on both feet, albeit faltering for a bit. He readied his stance, prepared to cut his way through the barricades and towards its weak point: its neck.

"I'm never dying by your hands, you hear me?!" roared Sora, resolution surging powerfully in his heart. "Tonight, I will make you pay. For everything you did to all of them!"

A flash of lightning whistled past, decimating all the incoming arms into oblivion. Caught off guard by the sudden bright flare, Sora instinctively shielded his eyes, but he knew who destroyed them. Head downcast, the corners of his lips curled upward into a grateful smile, thanking the normally cowardly Zenitsu for everything that he'd done for this battle.

"Tanjiro! Get Nezuko!" Sora heard Zenitsu yell out. "I'll cover you for as long as I can."

"Right!" nodded Sora.

Not a moment to lose, Sora first rushed towards where Xion had abandoned her katana, picking up the watery blue blade as he ran past it. Now wielding one sword in each hand, he felt a wave of nostalgia, recalling the last time when he dual wielded, not counting his Drive Forms that activated the Synch Blade passive ability.

Strength coursed through his limbs. For a split second, Sora thought he saw the ghost of Sabito smiling at him with encouragement. He vanished when they made eye contact, but his presence seemed to linger on. It was as though Sabito himself was with him. Not as in fighting alongside him, but as if he were channeling his strength to Sora, giving him the energy he needed to spur himself onwards.

A watery yet sharp tang infiltrated his nostrils, and a silvery thin thread materialised into view, connecting his blade to the wrist of the hand that kept Xion pinned.

_That's it, the opening thread! Here goes: Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, First Form Modified: Spinning Water Surface Slash!_

He spun, slashing at the wrist with both swords rapidly and powerfully, severing the hand from its arm. Seizing the opportunity, Xion dislodged herself from the ground and bolted away, leaving the demon to stumble from the sudden change in posture. The demoness kept a safe distance away, her body trembling from heavy pants as she tried to regain her senses, a single pinkish-indigo eye blazing with fury in the shadows.

" _Xion!"_ called Sora.

She perked, looking at his direction.

" _Catch!"_

He tossed Xion's blade towards her. Obliging to Sora's commands, Xion leapt, seizing her hurled weapon by the hilt mid-air. She ran back to his side, quickly taking up a stance as she glared at their formidable looking opponent.

The demon guffawed as it recalled its arms. "You fools! Can't you see that it's pointless to slash at my arms? For every arm you sever, three more will replace the fallen one."

"So what?" spat Xion, brandishing her katana.

"You insolent, traitorous brat!" it hollered. "I'll show you what happens to those who betray their own kind!"

Arms surged towards them. Steeling herself, Xion dashed towards them with an imperceptible speed, drawing her katana back to slash through the arms to make an opening.

" _Sora!"_ she glanced back momentarily. _"I'm going to make an opening. You go cut off his head!"_

He nodded, albeit hesitantly. Readying his blade, he followed her, idly noting the techniques Xion used to cleave an open path for him. Black, foul-smelling ichor splattered all over with every slash, yet this demon was still not flinching in pain, despite how much punishment they had inflicted on it.

_Just how high is this guy's pain tolerance?_

His nose picked up a foul stench from above. Letting his battle instinct guide him, Sora jumped, head-butting the fist so hard that it rebounded off of him upon contact and hacking it off the arm. He then tucked himself into a roll and landed on the remains of the arm on his feet. Using it as a shortcut, he ran on it at full speed. The demon gawked at him with undiluted astonishment, stunned by the unexpected move Sora pulled off.

Within the split second, Sora had sniffed out another opening thread, this time linking his blade to an almost unnoticeable spot, wedged between an arm and its head. Hardening himself, he drew his katana back, preparing the finishing blow.

_Breath of Water, First Form: Water Surface Slash!_

At blinding speeds, the blade sliced through thick layers of flesh and bone, separating the demon's head off its body. The severed head stared after him wide-eyed. Sora turned, meeting the dying demon's eyes.

A white light washed over him. When his vision cleared, he flinched, surprised to find himself within a dark void. Sora looked around in confusion, wondering how he had gotten here, just as a flickering beacon caught his eye. Drawn towards it, he ran over to the fading mote of light, curious. After a short while, muted sobbings reverberated within the void, the scent of sadness accompanying the sorrowful cries.

The light turned out to be a young boy, pitifully crying his heart out. He curled up into a ball, weeping into his hands.

" _I'm scared. I'm all alone in the night. Please, nii-san, hold my hand like the way you used to."_

A twinge of pity struck Sora's heartstrings. Smiling sadly, he crouched beside the crying boy, placing a comforting hand over his back. The boy froze, slowly turning his eyes onto him, his eyes - yellow with cross-hatched pupils - wide with terror and confusion.

Initially, Sora was taken aback by the boy's eyes, eyes that were uncannily identical to the demon that he just defeated. Then, a realisation dawned upon him: this boy was who the Hand Demon once was. Just like Xion, he had been ruthlessly turned into a demon, so many years ago. An unfortunate victim in this whole mess, started by a cruel man with no regard for the wellbeing of others.

"Are… are you my nii-san?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, I'm not," Sora replied apologetically, his smile gentle and sympathetic. "But I'm willing to stay with you, if that makes you feel better."

He extended out his hand towards the boy. The latter stared at it, much like how a wary wild animal would, tentatively taking the offered hand. Sora pulled the surprised boy into a comforting embrace, soothing him by patting his back and whispering consolations to him.

"Everything's fine now," he consoled. "It's all over. You'll be free, and you can see your family again."

The boy bawled and hugged Sora tighter, unable to restrain his emotions any longer.

"There, there," whispering Sora soothingly, continuing to rub the boy's back in circles. "Everything's alright. It must be horrible, being trapped here all by yourself for so long."

Footsteps echoed into the void. Sora glanced up, seeing an older boy with a striped yukata running towards them, relief etched onto his face. The younger boy in his arms looked at the boy, and his face brightened upon seeing the older boy.

"Nii-san! That's my nii-san!" he told Sora, excitedly pointing to the boy wearing the striped yukata.

Sora let go of him. Like a bird free from its cage, he raced off, glomping his older brother. The latter grunted from surprise, before a gentle smile crept up his face. He affectionately ruffled the younger boy's hair.

"Please, nii-san! Hold my hand!" begged the younger boy, looking up at his brother with puppy eyes.

He laughed. "Alright, alright! You're such a scaredy-cat!"

The boy took his younger brother by the hand, leading him away from Sora. A few steps later, he turned back, smiling gratefully at the former Keyblade Wielder.

"Thank you for bringing my brother back to us, kami-sama," he said, bowing deeply with sincere gratitude.

"What? No, don't call me that! It's embarrassing!" waved off Sora, smiling abashedly at them. "I'm no god. I'm just someone who likes to give others a hand."

"But you are," replied the boy, softly but confidently.

Sora stared at him, arms crossed and his brow quirked questioningly.

"We must take our leave now," said the boy. "Farewell. I wish you the best of luck in your quest, kami-sama."

Without another word, he led his younger brother away, walking farther and farther until they disappeared into the darkness. White light enveloped Sora once again, and he found himself back in Mt. Fujikasane again, holding the hand of the demon's crumbling remains. A pang of sympathy hit him as he thought back of who the demon once was.

It was so melancholy, he thought, to think that the demons had suffered so much injustice when they were human.

"Sora!" called Xion, rushing over to Sora frantically. The fight had completely shattered her mask, exposing her face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," whispered Sora, watching the last of the remains disintegrating into ash.

As if on cue, a sharp pain flared at his right ankle. Yelping in pain, Sora collapsed with a grimace, gripping his aching ankle. Forcing a strained smile, he sheepishly took back his earlier statement.

"Or not. I think I sprained my ankle."

A sudden thought entered Sora's mind.

"Hey, what about Zenitsu? How is he?" he inquired curiously.

"He's fine, but he's out cold," answered Xion. "I've leaned him against the tree over there."

She pointed over to a tree, where a yellow figure slumped against its trunk like a ragdoll. Aside from splotches of dirt all over him and some bruises, Zenitsu seemed fine. Physically, at least. Sora wouldn't want to think about how he would react when he woke up from his coma.

"Let's go back," said Sora, noting the coming of dawn. "It's almost sunrise."

Together, they limped back into the cave, dragging a still unconscious Zenitsu back inside. As soon as they settled everything, the two siblings collapsed onto the ground in an exhausted heap, out cold from the excitement of their battle.

With his last remaining strength, Sora whispered a final prayer to Sabito and Makomo. _I won. You don't have to worry anymore. Rest in peace._

It might be a figment of his imagination, but he swore that he heard Sabito responding to his prayer with a grateful "I know; I was there".

* * *

"So he won?"

"Looks like it," chirped a brunette, emerald eyes shining with happiness. "Why? I thought you had faith in Sora, _Squall."_

"For the last time, Aerith," he sighed, pinching his nose in frustration. "It's Leon. And two, I just want to be sure."

"Mmph," she hummed nonchalantly. "We're no longer a part of the living, so why do you still hold on to that guilt?"

"That's because being emo is in his nature!" piped a ravenette, skipping childishly into their midsts.

"Yuffie," growled Leon. "I am not 'emo', as you so like to call it."

"Keep telling yourself that," said a blond sarcastically, his hair spiking like a chocobo's feathers.

"Says the one who broods all the time," retorted Leon irritably. "Cloud. I thought you said you weren't interested."

"Tifa dragged me here," he shrugged, chin pointing to a woman with ruby red eyes. "Told me that since it involves Makomo, I should at least watch over her."

"A fine job you did," Leon remarked dryly. "Anyway, you're not the only one whose descendant is involved in this."

"You mean Sabito?" clarified Tifa. "He's yours, isn't he? Weren't you the one who told him and Makomo about the Guardians?"

"Yes, and it's not just me. Aerith pitched in as well," added Leon. "After all, the only ones who are still alive on the front lines are Aerith's and Yuffie's descendants."

"There's only one left of my bloodline," said Aerith sadly. "It's sad to see our children having to continue our battle against the darkness, even after we're long gone."

"That's how it's supposed to be," muttered Cloud, a resigned look painted on his face. "Light and Darkness are fated to clash endlessly."

"You're not saying that because of Sephiroth, right?" questioned Tifa, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Unfortunately," he grumbled, folding his arms onto his chest moodily.

"Well… since Sora just crossed that bridge," drawled Yuffie, eyes lighting up expectantly. "Can we reveal ourselves to him now?"

"Not yet, but we'll do it soon enough," replied Aerith, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. "I know you miss him, Yuffie. We all do."

"But we can't distract him from accomplishing what he needs to do," Leon finished for Aerith.

"Pfft, spoilsports," groused Yuffie, puffing out her cheeks in disappointment.

Laughter rang across the room, everyone save for Yuffie amused by her childish antics. Some things just never change, do they?

* * *

Ever since they've defeated the Hand Demon, there were rarely any demon encounters. Zenitsu, as expected, freaked the moment he woke up, screeching about the terrifying encounter. It took them hours to pacify him since his awakening, since him going hysterical was compounded by the fact he saw Xion unmasked for the first time.

"Wait, you're not afraid of her?" asked Sora, tilting his head in confusion. "I thought you're deathly afraid of demons."

"I am. But I already know Nezuko's a demon the moment I met her," explained Zenitsu. "I can tell from the sound she makes."

"That's amazing," he complimented. "So you can hear anything and everything?"

"Yep," said Zenitsu, puffing out his chest in pride before it quickly deflated. "But it gets annoying sometimes."

"I feel you," nodded Sora sympathetically.

The trio were glad for the sudden inactivity, taking the opportunity to replenish their stamina. Just like that, the rest of the week flew past in a flurry. On the seventh night, just before dawn, Xion bade the boys goodbye and left, going ahead to receive her inauguration.

When dawn came, it was their turn to return to the assembly point. As Sora's ankle was still injured from the battle against the Hand Demon, he had a walking stick in hand to support himself throughout the journey back. They made slow progress, but made it back just in time for their inauguration ceremony. The former Keyblade Wielder felt a tad self-conscious to see that he was the only one, out of the four survivors, sporting bandages and a crutch.

 _Only four of us, out of twenty something? Oh, that demonic boy and the butterfly girl survived as well!,_ realised Sora. _How did they look so clean and uninjured?_

"Welcome back," greeted the black-haired girl, the same set of twins that addressed them at the beginning of the Final Selection. "And congratulations. We are glad to see you safe."

"So?" sneered the scarred boy nastily. "What am I supposed to do now? Where's my katana?"

"First, you will be issued your Corps' uniform," stated the white-haired twin. "We will take your measurements and engrave your rank."

"There are ten ranks," her sister followed up. "Kinoe, Kinoto, Hinoe, Hinoto, Tsuchinoe, Tsuchinoto, Kanoe, Kanoto, Mizunoe and Mizunoto. Right now, you all are at the bottom rank of Mizunoto."

"Where's my katana?" he demanded again, irritation seeping into his words.

"Today you will choose the ore for your swords," continued the white-haired usher, ignoring the boy's unreasonable demands. "Then it will take up to fifteen days for the katana to be forged."

"Then we will assign you a Kasugai Crow," added the black-haired girl, clapping her hands twice. "They are generally used for communication, but not always."

On cue, four birds fluttered down, three crows and one sparrow. One crow landed on Sora's shoulder, ruffling its wings for a few seconds before settling down properly. He looked at his own, astounded at the bird's intelligent eyes and how it seemed to size him up like how a person would when they meet someone for the first time.

"Hello," greeted Sora, stroking his Kasugai Crow's glossy plumage.

"Greetings!" it cawed back, puffing its chest out.

He glanced towards his fellow survivors. Zenitsu was befuddled to see a sparrow instead of a crow, his avian partner chirping happily on his finger without a care in the world. The butterfly girl, as usual, did not speak a word and wore her empty smile as she studied her own Kasugai Crow. Her expression was so stoic that it was impossible for Sora to tell exactly what she was feeling, but from lack of scent alone, he could deduce safely that the girl probably wasn't feeling anything.

The boy with the buzz cut didn't seem all that willing to wait any longer. Snarling, he swung his arm violently, throwing his Kasugai Crow off his arm. Swivelling, he glowered at their two young ushers.

"I don't care about some stupid crows!" he growled, stomping over and grabbing the white-haired girl roughly by her hair.

Glaring fiercely, he forced the girl to look into his irate eyes. "Katana! I want my katana! And I want it now! A Demon Slayer Corps katana! A colour-changing katana!"

"Enough of your nonsense!" interjected Sora, storming over to the boy and seizing him by the wrist to stop him from abusing the girl further. He snapped his eyes towards him.

"Back off," the boy glowered at him menacingly. "This is none of your goddamned business."

"It is _my_ business to stop you when you go too far," retaliated Sora in a low voice, mustering up a glare that rivals the boy's own in intensity. "Let her go, right this instance, or I'll snap off your wrist."

The boy narrowed his eyes at him, scrutinising. "Say, have we met before?"

"No," he said, without a second thought. "Are you going to release her, or do I have to make you?"

"Tch, try it," spat the boy. "You don't look like the type who'll follow through with their threats."

_Oh, if only you knew…_

Hardening his face, Sora closed his hand into a tight fist, gradually adding his strength to his grip until a sickening crack emanated from inside his tightened fist. The boy grunted in pain, and he cast his arm aside. Clutching his injured arm, he stumbled, breathing heavily from pain and anger, if the angry scent around him was a valid sign.

"Have you finished your chit-chat yet?" the black-haired usher inquired serenely, as if she hadn't just witnessed a brawl. "If so, please come over here and select the ore for making your katana."

Nodding, Sora walked over to her. Beside the usher was a table, with six ores sitting on top of a red cushion arranged equally into two rows. Sora noticed that there were two empty spots, from the shallow depressions visible on the fabric. One depression had light scratch marks clawed around it, as if whoever took that ore had long and viciously sharp nails.

"You choose the ore for the sword that will kill demons for yourself, and the ore of the weapon that shall protect you."

"Tanjiro, how are we supposed to know which one is for us?" whispered Zenitsu, looking anxiously at the ores.

"No idea," he replied. "We let our hearts decide."

That had always been the mantra of his previous life, hadn't it? What was that saying that Master Yen Sid used to say…'May your heart be your guiding key'? Yeah, that sounds about right to Sora. And it seems that it could apply very well for this case, since none of them knew a thing about mineral ores. The only option was to choose the one that feels right to them.

Closing his eyes, he sniffed, imagining a silvery thread guiding him to the ore that he was meant to have. Feeling a tug, Sora opened his eyes, looking towards the direction of the pull. He let his hand gravitate towards the ore in the right corner, reaching out for it and taking the ore.

Following his lead, the rest of the candidates soon chose their own ores and handed it to their ushers. After that, their measurements were taken, and it was only then were they finally dismissed. The rest immediately descended the mountain without a second thought. Zenitsu, however, seeing that his new friend wasn't going with them, decided to linger around for a bit longer.

"Tanjiro, aren't you leaving?" asked Zenitsu.

"Nah, not yet. Don't forget, Nezuko is still here," reminded Sora with a gentle smile. "I must pick her up first before I can leave."

"Right, right," muttered Zenitsu, forgetting about her 'special condition'. "Well, be seeing you then?"

"See you later," he bade the blond farewell, bowing slightly. "I hope we meet again, Zenitsu."

The blond nodded, looking back at Sora for the last time, before heading down the mountain. He stared after Zenitsu, watching him disappear into the distance. Now alone, he turned to the two ushers.

"Is it alright if I retrieve the box now?" asked Sora.

"Yes, but you have a summons," answered both girls in unison. "You will need to answer it before you are allowed to leave."

"Fair enough," shrugged Sora. They had some time to spare anyway, might as well humour their request. "Who summoned me, if I may ask?

"The leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, Oyakata-sama."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did it. I freaking did it. Enter Zenitsu, everyone's favourite serial whiner and BAMF practitioner of the Breath of Thunder! I hope I nailed his character down… I never expected that he was such a difficult character to write, jeez. If I wasn't cringing, then he sounded so damn OOC. Haiz, such is the dilemma of a fanfic writer. I literally rewrote his scenes three times before we got this result. As for the fight scenes, I hope it meets your expectations. And yes, Sora did pull off a Reaction Command in the fight against the Hand Demon, if anyone's wondering.


	7. First Ripples on the Water Surface

"The leader of the Demon Slayer Corps?" repeated Sora, astonished. "What for?"

"We do not know," they answered in unison. "But we recommend that you answer his summons immediately."

He chewed on his lip nervously. There was no reason the elusive and mysterious leader of the entire platoon of demon slayers would crave an audience with him. If the survivors of the Final Selection were reliable benchmarks, Sora would be below average, since he was the only one who was injured so severely that he was virtually crippled. That ruled out "promising talent"; not that he was anything special.

Sora tilted his head slightly, mulling it over. As far as he knew, neither he nor Xion had done anything, so it's probably not for anything bad. What else could it be, then?

" _Why don't you just go ahead and find out whatever he wants with you?"_ suggested Xion, her box sitting innocuously beside the white-haired host.

"…Alright," he said hesitantly. "Take me to see him."

The raven-haired host clapped her hands twice. Instantly, two figures dressed in black hurried into the vicinity, both of them dressed head to toe in black. They wore the Corps' uniform - just like Giyuu's and Shizue's - except theirs had a darker colouration. A cloth concealed most of their features, leaving only a gap for their eyes.

Without warning, one of the figures swept Sora up and held him over his shoulder, ignoring his surprised spluttering and halfhearted protests to put him down. The other one slung the box over their shoulders so roughly that he could hear Xion's shrunken form slamming against the sides, followed by soft but annoyed scratchings and telepathic gripes that only Sora could hear.

"Take them to the Ubuyashiki Estate, please," ordered the white-haired girl.

The two figures bowed reverently at the girls, before running off at a breakneck pace that nearly knocked the wind out of Sora's lungs.

" _Just what is with these guys?!"_ cried Sora, bewildered.

" _How would I know?"_ retaliated Xion, just as bemused as he was. _"If it weren't for the sun, I would have given them a good scare!"_

" _But the box has two latches,"_ he pointed out.

" _My kicks are more than enough to unclasp the latch outside,"_ she scoffed. _"Besides, you never do the latches properly."_

" _That's so you could come out when I'm not available!"_ protested Sora, looking indignant that she made such an implication.

"Hey, you," blurted the person holding Sora.

"Me?"

"Well, yeah. Who else am I talking to?" he scoffed derisively.

"I don't know," muttered Sora sarcastically. "Maybe your buddy in front of you?"

"I wouldn't have said 'you' if I wanted to talk to her," said the robed guy. "Anyway, what did you do to get Oyakata-sama's attention?"

"No idea," he replied, shrugging. "I'm just as curious as you are."

"Goto!" scolded the figure ahead of them. "Don't be rude. It's not our business to pry."

"Oh, for god's sake, Sumire!" exclaimed Goto. "Look at him! He just passed the Final Selection, and the great Oyakata-sama wants to see him? With how banged up he looked, I really doubt that he would make a good slayer."

"Hey!" snapped Sora, taking offence to the comment.

"Unlike you, at least he passed!" retorted Sumire scathingly. "You are in no position to criticise him."

Goto sniffed, but said nothing. They spent the rest of the journey in silence, punctuated by steady footsteps. After what felt like an eternity of running, they arrived at a lavish estate, dropping to their knees before the entrance of a minka. There was a faint scent of wisteria incense present, permeating from inside the house.

Sitting on the tatami mat cross-legged, a man with chin-length black hair trimmed evenly at the ends smiled serenely at them, with the bangs split apart in the middle and exposing his forehead. The upper half of his face seemed to be afflicted by some disease, making it seem like the skin was rotting off him. His lavender eyes had an emptiness to them, not unlike someone whose eyesight was failing them.

"Oyakata-sama," Sumire and Goto greeted respectfully, keeping their eyes on the gravel. "We brought him here."

"Please seat him at the edge, and his box beside him," said Oyakata, his voice calming and soothing to the soul. "You may be dismissed afterwards."

"Yes, Oyakata-sama!"

Goto carefully lowered Sora onto the edge, doing his best not to touch his bandaged ankle. Their eyes met momentarily, and he whispered urgently at him to be on his best behaviour at all costs or else. Before the former Keyblade Wielder could question him, he and Sumire had already made themselves scarce, leaving him and Xion alone with Oyakata.

"The weather is lovely today, don't you agree, Tanjiro?" he remarked with a soft and calming voice.

"I suppose so," agreed Sora, scratching his head awkwardly as he turned around to face Oyakata. "Although, if you don't mind me asking Oyakata-sama, how did you know my name?"

_Not like it was my name to begin with…_

"I make it a point to know the names of every single swordsman who joins the Corps," answered Oyakata. "They are all my children, after all."

"I see," nodded Sora understandingly, although he barely understood the sentiment behind the man's words. "Not to be rude, but what is it you called us for? I could think of no reason why you would make a direct request to see a new recruit like ourselves."

"This is an unusual case," agreed Oyakata with a tranquil smile.

"It isn't because of Nezuko, right?" blurted Sora, panic beginning to worm into his heart. "Is she not allowed to join the Corps because she's a demon?"

"Rest your worries, child," reassured the man. "Nezuko will join our ranks, much like yourself. However, I fear that the others will not be as accepting of her."

Dread clawed at Sora's chest. "What would happen if they find out?"

"Even if they discover the truth, it will change nothing," he answered with calm confidence. "I can sense that Nezuko has a powerful will. Powerful enough for her to break free from Kibutsuji Muzan's control, even as a newly born demon. She may be the key for us to end this conflict and restore peace for humanity, once and for all."

"Thank goodness," breathed Sora, holding his chest in relief.

"In the meantime, I would advise that you keep Nezuko within your sight at all times," added Oyakata. "All missions that you will be assigned to in the future will be shared with Nezuko. There is no need for you to fret over the possibility of getting separated from one another."

"That can be done easily," replied Sora, dipping his head into a thankful bow. "Thank you for your kindness."

"We expect many things from you and your sister, Tanjiro," said the leader of the Corps. "Your eyes hold the light of the future. That is something I never thought I had the fortune of seeing."

"The light of the future?" parroted Sora, tilting his head curiously.

"A promise," he answered cryptically. "You made a promise with someone - an oath - that you will bring them together, no matter how long you all have been separated. Did you not?"

Sora choked, almost falling off the edge in his immense surprise.

"How did you know that?" whispered Sora in a trembling voice, stunned.

"I am, perhaps, close to what you call a seer," explained Oyakata with a light-hearted chuckle. "I often have prophetic visions."

"Then… do you, by chance…" he rasped, voice lilted with hope.

"Unfortunately, I do not know of their exact whereabouts," responded Oyakata, giving out a light scent of regret. "That is for you to uncover by your own hands. I, however, do have something that can assist you in your search."

Sora deflated visibly at the disappointing answer, only to brighten up upon hearing his last sentence. Eyes shining, he posed another question.

"What is it?"

Oyakata took a scroll from the pile beside him, handing the yellowed roll of parchment to Sora. Perplexed, he accepted the scroll, carefully turning it about as he scrutinized it. No matter how much he looked at the scroll, it seemed to be merely an ordinary old scroll. Sora sent a questioning look at Oyakata.

"This is a scroll I have taken out from my family's archives," he explained. "It has been with us for countless generations."

"What?!" blurted Sora, gawking at the scroll with renewed awe. "Surely this must be something invaluable! I can't accept this, Oyakata-sama!"

"Calm down, Tanjiro," pacified Oyakata. "Yes, this is a family heirloom, but none of us can decipher the secrets of this scroll, for the language has been long lost to the passing of time. I believe that the contents of this scroll hold a hint to what you are searching for."

"How can we find a clue inside this scroll if it's written in a dead language?" questioned Sora, quirking his brow in confusion.

Oyakata merely smiled enigmatically. "You might be surprised, my child."

"Still, I can't take this," insisted Sora, pushing the scroll back towards Oyakata. "As much as I want to find my friends, I'm not willing to do anything for the sake of accomplishing my goal."

"Tanjiro," stated Oyakata, with an air of finality in his words. "It would be much better if the scroll could find its usefulness in the hands of someone who could benefit from its knowledge, rather than becoming a forgotten relic left in the dust."

" _He's not giving me the option of refusing,"_ said Sora. _"But I can't just take a family heirloom!"_

" _Sora,"_ called Xion. _"I think you should take it."_

" _What! Why, Xion?"_

" _He basically told you that he had no use for it,"_ she commented somewhat impatiently. _"It's as you said, he won't take no for an answer. Why not just accept the scroll and get it over with?"_

"Alright then," conceded Sora, with a smile adorning his lips as he took the scroll back. "I shall accept it. Thank you for your generosity."

Oyakata returned the smile, pleased at Sora's final decision. "Well then, I believe that our conversation has gone on long enough."

On cue, Sumire and Goto reappeared, assuming a kneeling position before Oyakata identical to when they first presented themselves before him. Sora nearly jumped out his skin when they suddenly appeared before them; how in the world did they know it was their cue to arrive? Averting their eyes from the white-robed man, they reverently ask him for his instructions.

"Take Tanjiro and his box to the nearest wisteria house," instructed Oyakata firmly.

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

 _Here we go again,_ groused Sora.

* * *

"Why must you treat me so roughly?" he complained, glaring. Pointless since he was facing away from Goto, but still.

"You're too big for me to carry you on my back," Goto answered simply. Sora was sure he was smirking underneath his mask when he said that, from his condescending tone.

"Oh, ha ha," laughed Sora sarcastically. "By the way, what is this Wisteria House?"

"I hear that this family was saved by demon slayers before," explained Sumire, who was leading them like before. "So as thanks, they allowed any demon slayer to stay there - free of charge - and made the wisteria as their family crest to help them identify their homes. Hence why it's called the 'Wisteria House'."

"Since you've passed the Final Selection," continued Goto. "You're technically a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. That makes you eligible for their services."

"And, we're here," announced Sumire, stopping in front of a wooden gate emblazoned with a purple wisteria crest.

The gate creaked open at a snail's pace. A middle-aged woman dressed in a violet kimono emerged from behind the gate to greet them. Her eyes fell onto Sora, then onto his borrowed blade and finally onto his bandages. Her brows furrowed in concern.

"Oh my, what happened to him?" fussed the woman, almost reminding Sora of how his mother would speak to him whenever he got hurt, even if it was something as trivial as a scratch. Which was all the time, since he and Riku have a tendency to play rough.

"He went through the Final Selection very recently," responded Goto. "Is it alright if he stays here to recuperate?"

"Of course!" she proclaimed, wasting no time in ushering them inside. "Come in, come in! I'll get a doctor immediately to check on his wounds. You two, take him inside."

She guided them into her house, passing by a courtyard that was filled with wisteria blossoms. They weren't as exquisite as the ones on Mt. Fujikasane, but they weren't anything to scoff at either, especially since they managed to get wisteria to bloom out of season. Or was it because Sora was seeing these during the day, while he saw the blossoms at the mountain at night? Does the time even matter when it came to flower admiring?

Sora's reverie was broken when Goto dropped him off at what looked to be a guest room. Sumire deposited his box at the corner of the room, bidding him a quick farewell before the duo left. Minutes after they left, his host came into the room with a doctor in tow. He wasted no time in inspecting his injured ankle and his forehead.

The doctor promptly set his ankle in a brace, with strict instructions on not to move it unnecessarily until the pain had fully subsided. Thankfully, Sora was given the green light to remove his forehead bandage, since the wound there has scabbed over with no apparent signs of infection. After the doctor had determined that there was nothing else wrong with him, his host escorted the doctor out of the residence.

They spent the rest of the day - meals included - in the guest room, where the two of them were staying in. Soon, night fell, the faint scent of wisteria incense wafting softly throughout the building.

" _I can't believe this,"_ groaned Sora, burying his face with his hands as he lay on the futon. _"I am basically bedridden until my stupid ankle heals over."_

" _Look at the bright side,"_ consoled Xion, lightly rattling her container. She didn't want to leave it because of the incense. _"You get to rest up without having to worry about anything."_

" _True,"_ he admitted.

A light giggle echoed throughout the room. Sora perked, eyes widening in astonishment, recognising the voice. He jolted up, wildly searching for the source in frantic desperation.

"Oh, Sora," whispered the voice. It was feminine, accompanied by a wistful tone.

"It couldn't be," breathed Sora, eyes glistening with tears.

A zephyr picked up, swirling into a shimmering whirlwind before Sora. The air currents began to take on a human shape, and a very familiar one at that. The wind subsided, revealing a young woman dressed in a pink and white dress, with chestnut hair pulled back into a long braid tied up by pink ribbons tied into bows. Her hands were clasped together as if in prayer, her eyes closed in a serene expression.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. She smiled when she caught sight of Sora's disbelieving and tearful eyes.

"Hello again, Sora," greeted Aerith, kneeling down beside Sora. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"A… aerith," he whispered softly, as if saying her name aloud would cause her to vanish. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me. Don't worry, this isn't a dream," assured Aerith, emerald eyes sparkling with the same light like before.

"But… are you…?"

"I am," she nodded sadly. "I am no longer a part of the living. I can only surface in the living world temporarily."

"Oh," said Sora lamely, averting eye contact with Aerith. "How long was I gone for, really?"

"A very long time," replied Aerith gently, running a hand through his wavy locks. "But don't worry. None of us blame you for disappearing for so long."

It was all too much for Sora to bear. With an anguished wail, he broke down into sobs with his hands over his face. In a corner, the door of a box creaked open, and a tiny figure tentatively peeked out, lured out by the cries of her brother.

Briefly observing the scene, Xion hurriedly returned to her normal size and ran towards Sora. Without hesitation, she engulfed him in a comforting embrace as he sobbed piteously and muttered incoherent apologies to no one in particular. The demoness glanced over to the newcomer. She didn't seem uncomfortable at all; if anything, she showed a bit of regret and melancholy.

"You're… Aerith, right?" asked Xion, staring at the brunette. "I remember meeting you at Radiant Garden before."

"And you're Xion, is it?" smiled Aerith coyly.

"It's surprising that you can recognise me in this form," remarked the demoness in jest, smiling nostalgically.

"The stars tell me many things," replied Aerith, her lips curled up into a mysterious smile. "Even in death, our bonds have yet to be severed. Digressions aside, it seemed that I picked the wrong time to meet with Sora."

"He's still hurt from the brutal massacre of his second family," stated Xion, her face morphing into one of sorrow. "I was brought back as Sora's younger sister, in this life. Both of us are the only survivors."

Aerith made no attempt to react to Xion's statement, quietly watching Sora as his sobs gradually died down into quiet sniffles.

Stroking his hair, Aerith let out another smile. "Feeling better now?"

"Y… yeah," sniffed Sora, glancing up with his now puffy eyes. "Thanks, Aerith."

"Xion?" he murmured in surprise. "When did you come out?"

"When you started crying," she answered, hugging him tighter. "No one will be mad at you, Sora. Sure, we might give you a piece of our mind for making us worry, but we're all glad to have you back, in the end."

"You are all linked by a powerful bond," added Aerith in agreement. "Just follow the chains, and you'll find yourself back with them. They are all in this world with you, but not everyone remembers who they once were. Some are on the verge of recalling, and so it's up to you to remind them."

"Aerith's right," concurred Xion. "If you said nothing that night, I would never have recovered my old memories."

"Then… that scroll," piped Sora, producing the roll of yellowed out parchment. "Didn't Oyakata say that it holds a hint to our search?"

"Let's look at it, shall we?" suggested Aerith.

Sora obliged, unrolling the scroll and pinning it flat to allow the silvery moonlight to illuminate it so they could read its contents. The two girls huddled at his sides, trying to get a glance at the contents. After staring at it blankly, Xion furrowed her brows in obvious confusion, squinting her eyes as though her eyesight had gone blurry.

"It's all gibberish," said Xion in dismay, shoving her face closer to the scroll. "Well… most of it. The only thing that is readable is the '火' at the top right corner."

"It isn't gibberish," chimed Aerith, shaking her head. "It's written in code."

"What?" cried Sora, slumping his shoulders comically in disappointment. "But where do we even start?"

Aerith opened her mouth, but only silence came out from her as her form shimmered and turned translucent. Sora did a double-take in surprise, watching his long-lost friend beginning to fade away. The young woman stared at them, immediately realising what had them so transfixed and stupefied. She smiled apologetically.

"Looks like my time is up," she said sheepishly. "And just when we're getting to the interesting parts, too."

"Can't you reappear again some other time?" asked Sora, tilting his head.

"I'm sorry, but it doesn't work that way," stated Aerith, shaking her head regretfully. "It would take me years before I can walk on this plane again. By then, you would no longer need our assistance."

"But…"

"Don't worry," she reassured, placing a finger on Sora's lips. "Our descendants will be around to help you out if things get rough. In fact, some of them already did."

"Who?" blurted Sora, curious and astonished to hear that his friends had left behind legacies on this world.

"Why, Sabito and Makomo!" gasped Aerith, in mock surprise. "They were Leon's, Cloud and Tifa's descendants, respectively."

"Wait, really?" this time it was Xion's turn to look surprised.

"No wonder they feel so familiar," muttered Sora, a look of realisation dawning upon his face.

"The others will appear to help you as well," added the brunette. Her form distorted even more, signalling that her time was almost up.

"Well, my time's almost up," said Aerith. "Goodbye, Sora. Xion."

The two chorused their own farewells, sadly watching the spectre of their friend finally fading away into motes of brilliant green light. Soft howlings of the wind reverberated melancholically in the room, and a gust of wind swept the last remnants of Aerith's presence in the room out of the open window and up towards the night sky, where a waning moon hung over the window.

He blinked. When Sora opened his eyes once again, he was lying down on the futon; the scroll unfurled over his torso. Morning light spilt in from the open window, the curtains gently swept up by the soft breeze. Xion was nowhere to be seen. Instinctively, he glanced over at the box where she stayed during the day. The box was untouched, but the door was slightly ajar. Maybe she didn't close it properly when she came out to get some fresh air and stretch her legs.

 _Was it all… just a dream?,_ thought Sora, bewildered by the befuddling events of the night before.

Slowly, he sat up, staring at the open scroll. Black unintelligible squiggles filled the parchment in neat vertical columns, bearing a vague resemblance to Japanese characters. The contents were unreadable, except for the kanji '火' written in elegant calligraphy at the top right corner and a graphic illustration of a roaring flame directly beneath it.

"Fire…?" he said, squinting his eyes in bafflement. "Is this kanji the title of the passage, or a hint?"

Letting the thought jostle around in his mind, Sora pondered, absent-mindedly crossing his arms in deep thought. A few beats later, he gave up, groaning and clutching the sides of his head in frustration. Maybe it was too early for deep thinking…

Days have passed, and Sora had never once paid another glance at the scroll. Although, it still didn't stop his mind from generating theories about its contents. Some of them were sound and plausible, while the rest of them were so absurd that it was best writing them off as a joke - which was most of them, as quoted from Xion after hearing some of his ridiculously large reservoir of theories.

The only idea they both agreed on was that the illustration and the kanji was a hint for either on how to decipher the mysterious code, or a clue of what the passage is all about. Not like it gave them any headway on how to interpret it; the squiggles remained to be a curious enigma to them.

Now hitting at a plateau, they left their side project, intending to come back to it once they've got a clearer mind.

On the third day of his stay, the doctor paid Sora another visit to check how his ankle was healing up. To his immense delight, he had deemed it well enough to be able to go without the brace, thus releasing him from his crippled status. The man then left him some instructions on not to stress his ankle too much, and a reassurance that Sora would be able to resume his normal activities in a few more days.

After the doctor left, Sora gingerly walked around the perimeters of his room, testing to see if the doctor's words were true. When no pain came, he made his way out of the room in a leisurely stroll, eager to explore the house, while careful not to put too much weight on his ankle.

Evening fell, and Sora spent the rest of the daylight sitting at the wisteria gardens, admiring how the purple petals beautifully reflecting the golden rays from the setting sun. In the background, he could hear his host - whose name he later learned was Kiyoko - exclaiming something at the entrance, as though pleasantly surprised by something, followed by footsteps that had two distinct rhythms.

He supposed that it was another demon slayer seeking refuge.

Suddenly, someone glomped him from behind, followed by an excited squeal of "gotcha!". Startled, Sora jumped out of his skin, swivelling to see who had ambushed him.

"Shizue?!" blurted Sora, astonished to see the turquoise-haired woman here of all places.

"Nice to see you again, Tanjiro-kun!" grinned Shizue, plopping herself beside him. Her uniform was dirtied and crumpled, most likely from all the battles she went through prior to coming here. "So. Mind telling me how you got here? And how's Nezuko-chan? Where is she?"

"I just passed the Final Selection," choked Sora, recovering from his shock. "But I sprained my ankle badly, so I'm staying here until I'm well enough to walk back to Mt. Sagiri. And Nezuko's doing very well, thanks for asking. She's in the room I'm sleeping in."

"Ah, congrats, you two! You're now fully-fledged demon slayers!" she complimented with a sincere smile. "Mt. Fujikasane is a nightmare for newbies. I should know. I remember running into this horror of a monstrosity."

She shuddered, as though recalling horrid memories.

"You mean the demon who killed Sabito?" he asked, tilting his head. Shizue gaped at him, stunned to hear that name coming out from Sora of all people.

"How did you know that name?" demanded Shizue, her eyes glinting like steel.

"He trained me and Nezuko, before we went for the Final Selection," explained Sora with a carefree smile. "Oh, there was this girl named Makomo too. Both of them were amazing!"

"How…?" she breathed, confused. "He's been dead for years!"

"They weren't actually there. It was their spirits. I think they were lingering around because they hoped that someone would come and break the cycle," replied Sora, his expression oddly solemn. "That desire was so powerful that it tethered their spirits to this world, unable to move on. We met their spirits at the mountain forest, at the clearing with the boulder. Urokodaki told me that if I sliced it, he would allow me and Nezuko to go for the Final Selection."

"You cut through it? That old boulder with the rope tied around it?" clarified Shizue, chuckling. "I thought it was indestructible. Me, Giyuu and Sabito tried to cut it, but we couldn't even make a crack on it!"

"Wait, it's been there since you were still Urokodaki-sensei's student?" exclaimed Sora, surprised.

"Well, yeah," frowned Shizue. "Unless you were talking about a different boulder."

"Probably not," muttered Sora. "Nezuko had to do the same thing. She had a different boulder, but I think it was almost identical to the one I had to cut."

"She, too?" the swordswoman laughed. "Wow. The old man's desperate to keep you guys with him."

"For good reason, too," he whispered, before a radiant grin spread across his face. "Good thing that we defeated it. Now Sabito and the others before us who died by his hands can rest easy."

"You two really are something," mumbled Shizue, shaking her head in disbelief. "If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that you two had to face these sorts of insanities on a daily basis since your previous lives! Aren't you shaken that you could've died in there?"

"I did, but I got used to it," chirped Sora, a bit too optimistic. "After all, as someone once told me, 'once you've chosen to live by the sword, then you must learn to accept the fact that you could die by it'."

That was a proverb his father taught him, when Sora was still a naïve island boy. Back then, he didn't understand what the older man meant; not until he got cast away from his island home and was forced to embark on an epic adventure with a legendary weapon in hand.

"That's… profound," she commented in a quiet voice.

 _And not to mention that I really lived through battles that could've killed me,_ thought Sora with a sweatdrop.

"Anyway, what about you, Shizue?" asked Sora, changing the subject. "How was your day?"

Perking up, the turquoise-haired woman immediately launched into a tirade about how she was dispatched to kill a demon in some village, who turned out to be fond of teleporting and altering the gravity in his turf. She went on and on about how it was a pain in the rump to get him into attacking range (she killed him in the end), only stopping passionate rantings when it was dinnertime.

Nevertheless, Sora couldn't help but empathise with Shizue; he knew what it was like to fight against an opponent who could manipulate space and gravity.

Before Shizue retired for the night, Sora brought her to see Xion. The older female immediately engulfed the astonished demoness in a tight embrace the moment she crawled out of her box, not even giving her the time to return to normal size, squealing on about how adorable Xion looked in her miniature form. The latter looked so uncomfortable that Sora had to gently tap Shizue on the shoulder and point out that she was choking the girl.

"Sorry," apologised Shizue, with a sheepish grin. "It's just… you look so _cute!_ "

"I've noticed," sighed Xion, growing back into her normal form. "Please, don't ever do that again. I almost clawed your eyes out, you know!"

"But you didn't," she replied teasingly.

"Really, I don't want them to regret letting me join the Corps," pleaded the demoness, turning her pink-indigo eyes at Shizue. "If I ever harm a human, then they'll be after my head."

"That wouldn't be good," agreed Shizue, finally seeing things their way. "Anyway, Tanjiro-kun. Once you've recovered, you better return to Mt. Sagiri as soon as possible. Urokodaki must be worried sick by now. I would rather not have him die from anything else other than old age."

"Noted," replied Sora.

"Alright, it's getting late," said Shizue, stretching as she stood up. "I'm hitting the sack now. See you in the morning. Goodnight."

Sora and Xion returned the favour, watching their senior walk out of their room before settling in for the night themselves. Well, for Sora, that is. Xion went over to the open window to gaze at the twinkling stars, leaving her brother to drift away into slumber.

Their uniforms arrived the next morning, just as the sun had risen.

"I'm here to deliver the uniforms for Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado!" announced a Kakushi.

Sora rushed out to the wisteria house's gate to greet him. "I'm Tanjiro. Please, do come in."

The Kakushi nodded, following him inside the wisteria house. "Where's Nezuko?"

"My sister is currently unavailable," replied Sora glibly. "Is it alright if you leave her uniform with me?"

"Oh, who do we have here?" drawled Shizue, walking towards them dressed in a violet and green kimono. "Delivering their uniforms, yeah?"

The Kakushi gulped upon hearing the dangerous lilt in Shizue's voice. Nervously, he nodded. "Y-yes, miss!"

Shizue glared at him dubiously, hands on her hips as she leant over to him, shoving her face uncomfortably into his. The scent of thick hostility and suspicion infiltrated Sora's nostrils, startling him. He was even more surprised when he realised that the smells had come from Shizue in furious waves. Did these two have some bad blood between them?

"I'm watching you," warned Shizue. She snapped her eyes on Sora. "Make sure you check Nezuko's uniform before sending him off."

"Uh, sure," stammered Sora.

"Here's your uniform," said the Kakushi, handing him a folded burgundy fabric with silver buttons lining the middle.

Sora unfurled it, holding the uniform by the top. It was identical in design with Shizue's and Giyuu's, but his uniform had a slight burgundy tint to it. He smiled in satisfaction, thinking about all the hard work that he'd placed that finally earned him a spot amongst the Corps.

"What about Nezuko's?" asked Sora, setting his uniform aside, careful not to crumple it.

Rifling through his bag, the man produced another folded bundle. Without warning, Shizue roughly snatched the uniform from his hands, letting it unfold by holding the clothing by the top.

Sora's jaw dropped upon seeing the uniform. It was nothing like the female uniform that he'd seen Shizue wear before! The top was way too small to be able to button the entire way, and the skirt so short that he highly doubted would cover anything at all. Why in the world was the Corps' uniform for its female members so skimpy and revealing?

"See!" declared Shizue, glowering darkly at the squirming Kakushi. "You haven't changed a bit from your perverted ways! I thought Kocho made it very clear to you!"

"You go back and make another set. This time a proper one, you hear me?!" growled Shizue, aggressively shoving the uniform back at the shivering man. "It better be something like Kocho's or mine, or I'll make sure you'll never hear the end."

Nodding furiously, he gathered up the rejected uniform and scurried off with his tail between his legs. Still grumbling, Shizue folded her arms, glaring at the retreating form of the pervert.

"Before you say anything, that sorry excuse of a guy is a notorious pervert. Don't waste your pity on him," interjected Shizue, raising a hand to silence Sora when she saw his mouth opening. "He likes to issue that stupid-looking uniform to us girls, just so he could gawk freely. Of course, we girls aren't going to take that lying down, but Kocho really takes the cake with this."

"Who's Kocho?" asked Sora, not recognising the name.

"Giyuu's colleague," she scoffed. "Her full name's Shinobu Kocho. Anyway, she used to burn the uniform and send the ashes to the Kakushi who made them, coupled with an _explicitly_ written threat on how she would castrate him in the worst way possible if he dares to do it again."

"Oh, jeez," he chuckled nervously, feeling a chill running down his spine at the graphic description. "That is _not_ someone I would want to piss off."

"I'm really tempted to copy her tactics," muttered Shizue darkly, punching a fist into an open palm. "Just when I thought he was scared into abandoning his perverted tomfoolery."

"You… don't like her very much, do you, Shizue?" asked Sora, tentatively.

"That's an understatement," she laughed mirthlessly. "Sure, we don't jump at each other's throats whenever we make eye contact, if only out of professionalism. That doesn't mean I have to like her. The way she acts… it grates on my nerves!"

 _Okay, I'm not going down that rabbit hole,_ decided Sora.

"Um, so… when will the modified uniform arrive?"

"Tomorrow, or this afternoon if he makes it quick," answered Shizue. "Since my Kasugai Crow didn't update me on new missions, I'm staying here to make sure he doesn't try anything."

"Um, there's no need for that," he turned down nervously.

"No, your sister needs it," rebutted Shizue. "I'm not letting some guy take advantage of her."

"Suit yourself," acquiesced Sora.

As Shizue had predicted, Xion's uniform came in bright and early the next morning. According to Kiyoko, the messenger had wrapped it in white paper and handed it to her before running off, as though he badly wanted to avoid someone inside the wisteria house. The demon slayer gave an uncharacteristic smirk when she heard about it.

"Good for him," she remarked, taking the uniform from Kiyoko while giving her a grateful thanks.

They opened the package, and to Sora's relief, the uniform was nothing like its predecessor. The top now could button all the way through, leaving no empty spots whatsoever. Unlike Shizue's bottom part of her uniform, which was a knee-length skirt, this uniform had long baggy pants. Her uniform, unlike his, had an indigo tinge to it.

"Thank goodness," breathed Sora, relieved that Xion now had a proper uniform and that he didn't have to endure Shizue's furious rants.

"You said it," agreed Shizue, handing the uniform back to Sora. "Now all that's left is your personal nichirin sword."

"We can receive them at Urokodaki's place," he said, smiling as he folded his hands behind his head. "My ankle's all better now, so we'll be leaving for Mt. Sagiri first thing tomorrow."

"Well, good for you," smiled Shizue, genuinely pleased at his recovery. "Give Urokodaki my regards for me, won't you?"

"Sure thing," grinned Sora.

"And… if you did see Sabito again," she whispered. "Tell him that me and Giyuu miss him a lot."

"No promises, but I'll try."

"Thank you," smiled Shizue, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That idiot… why did he have to sacrifice himself?"

She got up silently, padding off down the corridor and disappearing round a corner. Sora presumed that she was getting ready to leave, now that there was nothing keeping her here anymore. The same goes for him and Xion, since there was nothing hindering him from travelling long-distance anymore.

* * *

Excitement bubbled inside him. He was going to fulfill his promise to his trainer; him and Xion both.

That night, Shizue had a very peculiar dream.

She dreamt of a world filled with magic, and of two friends. A world without demons, but were instead infested with monsters bearing uncanny similarities with the demons. Mindless creatures of the darkness, who seek to devour any light that they came across. It would seem to her that demons will continue to exist, as long as humanity continues to live. A scratchy voice whispered inside her dreamscape, muttering the same phrase over and over again like it were a sacred mantra.

_The brighter the light, the darker the shadows become._

She dreamt of a barren wasteland, rusted swords fashioned in the shape of skeleton keys embedded ominously into the lifeless earth. And of epic battles between light and darkness.

The dream-visions were disjointed, mere snippets of events that had no ties to the ones prior or to the ones after it. However, _he_ never fails to show up, either as a fleeting thought in her dream-self's mind, or physically in the dreams.

 _He_ was the only link that ties these nonsensical snippets together.

Yet, Shizue could never get a good look at _his_ appearance. Whenever _he_ showed up, _his_ entire form would blur out.

Her vivid dreams stretched out throughout the night, tormenting her mind with endless waves of questions that offered no satisfying answers, until Shizue awoke, her breathing laboured and her entire body coated in a thin layer of cold sweat.

_Just what exactly are those dreams?_

* * *

Sora panted, his walking stick digging deeply into the ground as he forced his feet to keep moving. The white sling bag containing their uniforms dragged his already heavy shoulders closer to the ground, actively hindering him from walking in long strides.

They had been travelling for two days straight, only stopping to eat and to let Xion come out of her box to stretch her legs. He was going to run himself ragged, yet he stubbornly refused to take a break, much to Xion's dismay and frustration. A few times, she had to lug his limp, exhausted form off the road and stand guard beside him, all because he wanted to get there as quickly as possible.

" _Sora,"_ said Xion firmly. _"Don't tire yourself out. Take a break if you need to."_

" _I can't,"_ replied Sora, his mouth set together obstinately. _"We're almost there, anyway. I can endure just a bit longer."_

" _Ugh, just what is with boys and their egos?!"_ she groaned in exasperation. _"It won't kill you to take a break, can it?"_

Sora ignored her, continuing to trek through the dirt path leading to the isolated hut at the foot of Mt. Sagiri. The sun had sunk into the horizon, dyeing the sky with brilliant shades of lavender, yellow, orange and red. He glanced up, not once stopping his consistent footsteps, thinking back of the world whose skies are in a perpetual state of twilight. No worlds' sunset can hope to match the glory of the sunsets at Twilight Town.

Slowly, but surely, a dark outline of a wooden hut crept into sight. Just by the entrance, an elderly man with a red tengu mask stood, tending to the flower bed beside the hut.

"Urokodaki-sensei!" cried Sora, his voice strained with exhaustion. He waved wildly at the old man, hoping his master could see him.

The Cultivator froze, slowly turning his eyes towards Sora, as though he couldn't believe what he heard and saw. Their eyes met, and the two of them stared at each other. One stunned and relieved, whereas the other was of happiness. The former Keyblade Wielder grinned, although he knew Urokodaki couldn't see it in the darkness.

Wordlessly, the old man ran towards Sora, the flowers temporarily forgotten, wrapping his student into a tight hug. He reeked of relief and jubilation, of someone whose hope had come true.

"Tanjiro," wept Urokodaki, his voice cracking with emotion. "You came back alive!"

Another pair of arms joined the hug, wrapping around Sora and Urokodaki. The old man placed a gentle hand on one arm, chuckling lightly.

"You as well, Nezuko," he muttered. "I'm glad that you both are safe and sound."

"I'm sorry I took so long," whispered Sora, feeling his throat tighten. Before he knew it, he burst into tears as well.

"No matter," choked Urokodaki, patting Sora's head fondly. "What is most important is that you both came back."

Before long, they were both ushered inside, and treated to a warm dinner. The rest of the night was spent with laughter, and recounting their experiences of surviving the demon forest of Mt. Fujikasane as well the incidents after their inauguration ceremony. When Sora brought up that he was brought to the Ubuyashiki Estate right after the Final Selection, Urokodaki froze, as though shocked by a mild Thunder spell.

"The leader of the Corps summoned you?" repeated the Cultivator in astonishment.

"It was only to give us this scroll," added Sora, pulling it out from its storing place and putting it on the table. "He said that it would help us, but we hadn't any headway in deciphering it."

"Curious," muttered Urokodaki, staring at the yellowed scroll in interest. "I wonder why he gave you such a scroll."

"I don't know either," he shrugged. Although Sora knew the reasoning behind his actions, he truly did not understand how this scroll would help them.

"Hmph," grunted the old Cultivator, placing one hand on each knee. "The Ubuyashikis never do things without reason. Perhaps we'll understand why soon."

"I hope so," sighed Sora, stowing the scroll away. He perked, suddenly remembering a promise he'd made. "Oh! I almost forgot, Shizue sends you her regards."

"Shizue? So you've encountered her during your return?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "She's still the same as ever."

"That's good," said Urokodaki. "It's getting late already, Tanjiro. You must be exhausted by the journey, why don't you retire for the night?"

"I'll be surprised if he wasn't," remarked Xion, her eyes glinting teasingly. "If he could, I'm sure he would walk himself to death. There are a few times I had to carry him because he refused to take a break."

"Wha-!" spluttered Sora, playfully glaring at Xion. "Why'd you had to say that?"

"Because it's true," deadpanned Xion.

"Alright, you two," interrupted Urokodaki. "That's enough for tonight. Go to sleep now. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused, trooping back into their shared bedroom to rest.

The morning after they've returned, Sora trekked up the mountain, back to the clearing where he had split the boulder. The two halves of the rock still sat there, a memento of his first milestone in his goal. Mist still gathered around the clearing, adding a mystical quality to it just as he had remembered. Sora smiled wistfully, recalling all the sweat and blood that he'd shed here just to master Total Concentration Breathing.

He stood before the split boulder. "Sabito! Makomo! Are you still there?"

No answer. For a moment, Sora wondered if they had moved on now that their unfinished business had been resolved, when footsteps echoed into the clearing. He perked, seeing two figures stepping out of the mist surrounding the forest.

"Yes, Sora?" Sabito was the first to answer Sora's call. Unlike their previous meeting, the peach-haired boy had his mask attached to the right side of his head. He regarded Sora with a friendly smile.

"I just want to carry a message to you from Shizue," answered Sora, folding his hands behind his head. "She says that she and Giyuu miss you tons."

Sabito fell silent, his head downcast in an unknown emotion. Makomo, on the other hand, giggled teasingly. "Oh Sabito~ aren't you going to tell him to return a message?"

"Sora," piped Sabito, snapping his silver eyes towards Sora's own. "You and Xion have the scroll, right?"

"How did you know?"

"Aerith told us," replied Makomo with a dreamy smile. "She asked us to give you a hint in her stead, since she cannot be here."

"What Makomo said," concurred Sabito with a sagely nod. "She said that you have to 'imagine the element'."

"Imagine the element?" parroted Sora, tilting his head in bafflement.

"With the scroll, of course," added Makomo.

"That's it?" exclaimed Sora. "Just imagine it?"

"We're only the messengers," reminded Sabito, smirking in amusement. "We don't know anything about the scroll."

"Ah."

"By the way," blurted Sabito. "Can you carry a message to Shizue and Giyuu for me?"

"Sure," agreed Sora, with a radiant grin. "What's your message?"

"Tell them I'm sorry that I left them behind," replied Sabito. "Tell Giyuu to stop doubting his own abilities. He's strong in his own way, so he shouldn't compare himself to others. And for Shizue… tell her that whatever happened in our Final Selection, it isn't her fault. After all, I was the one who told her to run."

"Got it," grinned Sora. "I'll send a message to them via crow after I head down."

"Oh, and tell them not to come looking for me," said Sabito in an afterthought. "This will be the last time we come here. Our business with the living has been resolved, so we must move on."

"Understood," nodded Sora. "May we meet again, in the next life. I hope we end up as friends again."

"Likewise, Sora," returned Makomo, with an appreciative smile of her own. "It's been nice, meeting you and Xion."

"Farewell," Sabito threw him a final goodbye, walking back into the mist with Makomo for the last time.

Sora watched them walk away, into the peaceful afterlives that they deserved. A lone tear trickled down his left cheek. Deep inside his heart, he wished that one day, they would end up together again.

They had been good friends to him and Xion, after all.

As soon as he'd returned, he jotted down Sabito's message onto two separate slips of paper. One addressed to Giyuu, and the other to Shizue. His Kasugai Crow, Matsuemon, sat on the table, silently watching him tie up the paper slips onto its feet with its dark intelligent eyes.

"Send this to Giyuu," instructed Sora, tapping the slip on its left foot. "And the other one is for Shizue. Do you understand?"

"Caw! Don't take me for a fool!" it squawked indignantly. "I understand every word you say, caw!"

With that said, the black avian took off into the sky through an open window to carry out the errand. Sora stared after it, fervently praying that it didn't muddle up the messages. It would be awkward explaining to them afterwards if they ever got mixed up.

* * *

Several days had passed since their return. As they waited for their swords, the two siblings busied themselves with other tasks to occupy their time. For Xion, she engaged herself in modifying her pink kimono into a haori to be worn with her uniform whilst Sora either trained and meditated. Once she was done, they huddled at one corner with the scroll in hand, trying their utmost to decipher it. Even with the hint, they still made no progress.

"Imagine the element?" she blurted out in bemusement, after hearing Sora repeating Aerith's hint. "How would it help us decipher the code?"

"Beats me," shrugged Sora. "But Aerith had never lied to me, and she had no reason to now. So she must have meant it."

"I don't know," whispered Xion with much uncertainty. "It sounded too good to be true."

"Well, if you're not ready to try it out, maybe we can do it some other time," said Sora, with an air of finality.

Once again, they left the scroll aside, just in time to hear wind chimes ringing outside. Sora perked, intrigued, and went outside to investigate where the chimes came from, leaving Xion to put aside the scroll.

The moment he stepped outside, Sora saw a man wearing a hat woven out of straw - a jingasa - treading towards them. The melodious chimes had come from the wind chimes attached to the edges of the hat, tinkling with every step the man took. Behind his back, a cloth bundle slung over it, bearing a vague outline of another long rectangular box. Sun-like patterns dotted his haori.

He walked over to Sora. "I am Haganezuka. I am the one who forged the katanas that will be used by Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado."

"Uh, I am Tanjiro," he replied awkwardly. "My sister is inside, why don't you-"

"This is a nichirin blade," continued Haganezuka, ignoring Sora's invitation to come inside. He knelt down, unpacking the box from his cloth bundle. "The iron sand and ore are the materials for a nichirin blade are-"

 _He's not going to stop, is he?,_ sighed Sora exasperatedly. Just why, exactly, did he have the misfortune of encountering people with an unhealthy love for monologues?

He wisely chose not to say anything, letting the swordsmith carry on with his speech. The man babbled on and on, removing something wrapped in a white cloth from the box as he spoke. When Haganezuka was done prattling about how the swords were forged, he looked up at Sora, a red clown mask worn over his face.

"Oh, you're a child of brightness!" exclaimed Haganezuka gleefully. "What luck!"

Sora resisted the urge to grab Haganezuka by his collar and make unreasonable demands about where he had heard that phrase before. He almost forgot that this world knew next to nothing about the eternal conflicts of the light and darkness. Haganezuka probably didn't mean any harm when he spouted that out with obvious delight.

"I'm sorry…?" trailed Sora, through gritted teeth.

"Your eyes and hair are reddish," stated Haganezuka, pointing at Sora's wavy locks. "Families who work with fire have such children. Be glad of your good fortune."

"Really?" replied Sora, astonished to hear that titbit.

"That means your blade might turn red," explained Haganezuka, his excitement rising with each passing second. "Your sister's too, but it won't be as likely as yours. Right, Urokodaki?"

The Water Cultivator grunted his agreement from inside. As if satisfied, Haganezuka bundled up the items and entered the house. Bewildered, Sora followed suit, idly wondering why he didn't monologue inside. It would definitely save them the time and effort if he'd done his explanation indoors. He supposed that it was one of the swordsmith's unique quirks.

They all gathered around in a circle, Xion included. Haganezuka handed Sora one of the katanas. The hilt was pure black patterned with red horizontal diamonds. For some reason, the handguard was fashioned in the image of a wagon's wheel, with a ring connected to the "core" with thirteen black axles. If the swords were meant to be crafted to represent a characteristic of its wielder in some way, then Sora just couldn't see how it relates to him.

"Go on, draw your sword," encouraged Haganezuka. "Nichirin blades are also called colour-changing swords, because it changes colour depending on who wields it."

Sora obliged, carefully unsheathing the katana. The blade's silvery grey surface glinted proudly in the sunlight, reminiscent of his Keyblade. He drew in a surprised gasp when the metal darkened into jet black, starting with the hilt. The dark colouration continued upwards, but at the third-quarter, it faded away into a pale golden gradient that stretched all the way to its tip.

 _Just like how the light looked,_ commented Sora in awe, staring at the pale golden tip with wonder.

"Black?!" huffed Haganezuka, exhaling out a puff of steam from his mask.

"Why? Is it bad?" panicked Sora, frantically looking towards his mentor.

"No, no. It's just that jet-black swords are rarely seen," reassured Urokodaki calmly, while Haganezuka was screeching dramatically in the background. "Although… I don't think I've ever seen a two-coloured sword before."

"Why you!" spat the swordsmith, pouncing towards Sora and throttling him. "Here I thought I would get to see a bright red sword, damn it! Why'd you have to shatter my hopes just like that, huh?!"

"Hey, let him go!" demanded Xion, trying to pry the irate swordsmith away from Sora. "Just how old do you think you are?"

"I'm 37," sniffed Haganezuka. He turned his eyes onto Xion. "Well, you haven't unsheathed your sword yet. Maybe your's will turn red for me."

He shoved the other katana into Xion as he released his hold on Sora, not giving her ample time to respond to her preposterous conclusion. Her hilt had an identical design to Sora's, but the handguard was crafted in the image of an aster's petals, with seven of them in total. The petals' borders were golden, and the core dyed pink that gradually darkened into a shade of purple that was almost similar to black near the edges.

Hesitantly, Xion drew her blade. Upon the sword's first unsheathing, her sword lightened into platinum white, with a pale golden tip that started from the third-quarter mark as well.

"Platinum!" yelled Haganezuka, clutching his head in despair. "Oh jeez, my lifelong dream of seeing a crimson red blade will never happen now!"

"I've never seen a platinum blade before," commented Urokodaki, ignoring the swordsman's antics. "Another dual-coloured sword? And the same secondary colour as Tanjiro's, no less?"

"Maybe it's because nii-san and I share an affinity?" suggested Xion.

"Perhaps," nodded Urokodaki.

The loud caws of a crow interrupted their discussion. Matsuemon flew in from the window and landed in their midst, repeating the word "mission".

"Mission, caw!" cried their Kasugai Crow, fluttering overhead them in circles. "Tanjiro, Nezuko! You must head north! Head for a town to the north! This will be your first mission, caw! Go, and beware! There, young girls are disappearing, night after night!"

"Well, I suppose it's time for me to take my leave," said Haganezuka, packing up his box and rising from his seat.

Sora and Xion exchanged determined glances, getting up as well to prepare for their first mission. As quickly as they could, they changed into their uniforms, sheathing their swords back into their scabbards and slung them on their belts (or placing in the holder at the box's side for Xion). The demoness shrunk down into a child form and squeezed herself into the box, waiting to be carried for the journey during the day.

Shouldering the box, they stepped foot outside, renewed resolve burning brightly within them. Thus, they embarked towards a new chapter of their lives, ready to face and overcome any trials before them.


	8. Sparks of the Past

Shifting the weight of the box on his back, Sora gazed around the destination of his first assignment with scrutinizing eyes, trying to capture any clues that would give him a lead towards his bounty.

Life bustled in the town to the north, its inhabitants rushing about their day like clockwork. As it was still day, there were no signs of any mysterious happenings, except for hushed whispers about the nightly disappearances and the faint scent of fear piercing through the air. What was perhaps most surprising to Sora was that no one batted an eye at his odd choice of clothing, nor did they gawk with blatant curiosity at the katana slung at his waist as people tended to do when he and Xion were heading for the Final Selection.

Maybe it was because he was wearing a militaristic-style uniform, so people assumed that he was part of the army?

Amid his observations, a sharp tang of worry and sadness wafted beside and away from him. Intrigued, Sora perked, eyes focusing on the source of those emotions - a haggard boy sporting unsightly bruises all over his face and a bloody nose. He staggered off in the opposite direction, his gait lifeless and eyes dimming with pure sorrow, as if his soul had been taken from him.

" _Do you think he's related to a victim?"_ commented Sora, tapping subtly at the right side of the box.

" _Seems like it,"_ surmised Xion. _"The sorrow that he gives out is overwhelming. Maybe you should talk to him."_

"Hey, excuse me!" called Sora, swivelling to face the grieving boy.

Said person froze, rooted to his spot as if stunned. Slowly, he turned around to address Sora.

"Are you talking to me?" he clarified, pointing a shaking finger to himself. His puffy eyes glistened with unshed tears. To Sora's alarm, there was a crusted trail of dried blood at the edge of his mouth.

"Yes, uh…" nodded Sora, faltering when he realised that he didn't know the boy's name.

"I'm Kazumi," he supplied with an oddly monotonous voice. "And you are…?"

"Call me Tanjiro," replied Sora. "Is it alright if I ask you about the nightly disappearances?"

Kazumi shook his head. "Go ahead."

"Thank you. Do you know anyone who recently disappeared?"

"My fiancée, Satoko," answered Kazumi immediately. "She disappeared last night. I was there with her when it happened."

Sora's countenance slackened. "Can you take me to where you last saw her?"

Wordlessly, Kazumi led him into the residential areas of the town. The walk was silent and tense, each of them occupied with thoughts of their own as they meandered through the pathways. Even though it was much more muffled, there was still a faint whiff of grief and anxiety lingering around their guide. It wasn't difficult to guess what was on Kazumi's mind.

 _Poor guy,_ mused Sora sympathetically.

They stopped at a pathway lined in front of multiple residences. Kazumi pointed at a spot in front of one of the well-to-do houses. "This is where Satoko disappeared. You might not believe me, but…"

"Don't worry, I believe you," smiled Sora. "That's why we're here: to investigate and stop the disappearances."

"'We're'?" repeated Kazumi, a tinge of confusion in his voice. "…You won't rope me into it, are you?"

"Oh, no! Of course not!" objected Sora, frantically waving his hands around. "I meant my partner. She's… busy with something else at the moment, but she'll join me once the sun sets."

With that said, Sora dropped to the ground and sniffed the spot where Satoko was said to have vanished. The scent on the ground was very faint, most likely because of the long time interval between the disappearance and now. Along with a floral scent - probably Satoko's, he caught the barest whiff of acrid sulfur - a demon's signature smell - tangled with the stronger human scent. His brow furrowed in confusion; the demon's scent was very uneven, stronger in some spots but almost unnoticeable in others. Why is that?

Like a dog, he crawled on all fours, following the faded trail that the demon had unwittingly left behind, all the while sniffing the ground to make sure he was on the right track. Kazumi trailed behind him, oozing out a wispy scent of confusion and bewilderment as he tried to comprehend the bizarre sight that presented itself before him.

The game of "follow the breadcrumb trail" went on for the entire afternoon, yet it yielded no results. The civilian was getting disheartened at Sora's unexplainable behaviour, and of the fruitless search.

"Hey, it's getting late," Kazumi stated hesitantly, shooting furtive looks at the darkening sky. "Maybe you should call it a day…"

"I'll be fine," reassured Sora, getting back on his feet. "The one who took Satoko is a demon. I'm sure of it. They're only active at night, so if I stick around, it's likely that I'll encounter the culprit."

Just as it did, the pungent acrid odour resurfaced in their midsts with a vengeance. He perked; the demon who terrorised this town is now on the hunt! Gritting his teeth, the rookie slayer sped off, using the scent trail as a guide that will ultimately lead him to his bounty.

"Hey, what's going on?!" yelled Kazumi behind them, startled by Sora's abrupt excitement.

"The demon's emerging!" shouted Sora, not even bothering to look back at Kazumi.

Driven by urgency, Sora launched himself high up into the air, somersaulting before landing gracefully on the rooftops and fluidly resuming his dash. The box on his back burst open, with Xion lunged out of her container and unsheathing her nichirin blade in a single fluid motion. Deftly landing on her feet, she joined her partner in the pursuit for their target, an unspoken plan already formulating in their minds.

At ground level, Kazumi gaped at the extraordinary feat as he frantically tried to catch up with Sora. His eyes widened even more when he saw Xion emerging from the box strapped behind the slayer's back, nonchalantly running beside him with a glinting silvery-gold katana in hand.

 _Look at that jump! So the stories are true…_ thought Kazumi, awestruck. _About the demons, and the Demon Slayer Corps!_

Sora zeroed his gaze on a particular spot on the ground, where the scent seemed to originate from. Another scent - a human's - permeated from the exact same spot. He narrowed his eyes; so the demon had caught its latest victim. Without a word, he pulled out his own nichirin blade, leaping down from the rooftop to deliver a swift ambush.

" _Xion! Once I lured the demon out, I'm going to rescue the girl!"_ said Sora, eyes not moving away from his target. _"You deal with the demon!"_

The demoness nodded in understanding, readying her battle stance and patiently waiting for her cue to strike.

_Breath of Water, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust!_

Hurtling face-first into the ground, Sora drew his sword arm back and stabbed at the ground with an imperceptible speed. A horrid cry of agony pierced the air upon the blade's impact. Viscous darkness pooled at the struck area like blood from an open wound, sluggishly regurgitating out a limp humanoid shape wreathed in thick liquid shadows. Not wasting even another second, he ripped the figure out of the darkness' grasp, quickly distancing himself from the puddle with the rescued girl in his arms.

From the puddle, a gnarled hand emerged, balling itself into a fist and shaking it in anger. It then sank back into the darkness, and the upper half of a grotesque demon surfaced, glaring at Sora with its pupilless, solid blood-red eyes. The demon's hair was pitch black, save for the two violet strands supported by golden hair separators that framed his unnaturally pale face. Three horns protruded from his head. He donned the dark robes of a ninja uniform, similar to the ones Yuffie would occasionally wear as Sora could recall. The demon snarled, gnashing its teeth that produced earsplitting screeches.

Another black silhouette sprang from the ground, intercepting a pink blur just as it was about to reach the three-horned demon. Metallic clangs resounded as steel clashed against claws. Eventually, the mysterious silhouette made a powerful strike, strong enough to force Xion out of the fray. She leapt back, rejoining Sora as she studied her new opponent with calculating eyes.

"You think it's one of those Blood Demon Arts Urokodaki told us?" hissed Sora, staring at the two demons. His grip on the unconscious girl tightened.

"Definitely," agreed Xion. "I mean, how else can they sink underground without a trace just like that? I really doubt that anyone here is even aware of the darkness' existence, much less able to control it."

"Oh, my," mused a refined masculine voice. A third silhouette surfaced from the ground, revealing it to be a near identical copy of the three-horned demon. However, instead of having three horns, the newcomer had only one. "A demon working with a human? What has the world come to? Don't you have any dignity left, girl?"

"Shut up! What do you know about dignity?" retaliated Xion, brandishing her silver nichirin blade threateningly at the one-horned demon.

"Where are the girls you've kidnapped?" demanded Sora, glaring at the twin demons.

The demons ground their teeth in unison, releasing irritating screeches that made Sora's ears ache, and dove back into the murky dimension. The pools of darkness dissipated, leaving them all alone and vulnerable to ambushes. Swivelling, Sora shoved the girl into a newly arrived Kazumi's hands. The latter stumbled a few steps backwards from the sudden weight and force, his brown eyes reflecting astonishment.

"Kazumi! Watch over her!" ordered Sora, with an air of finality. "And stay close to us! As long as you are within our reach, Xion and I can protect you!"

He nodded. Together, the trio slowly traversed through the passage. The two slayers kept their swords in a standby stance, keeping their eyes peeled on any flat surfaces near them. There's no telling where the demons would surface next. Even Sora's enhanced sense of smell can only do so much to warn them about imminent attacks. The best he could do was to keep up with the scent's erratic movements.

He stilled, slowly craning his eyes downwards. A blip in the scent's intensity, directly beneath their feet.

" _Beneath us,"_ whispered Sora, casting a sideways glance at Xion. She nodded back, resolution smouldering in her eyes. _"On my count."_

Upon his warning, Xion readied her stance, preparing to drive her nichirin blade into a downward strike, as did Sora. His eyes narrowed in concentration, fully focused on detecting the exact moment for the demons to make their move. The intensity peaked to an all-time high, matching the level of when the demons first revealed themselves to them. Already expecting the sneak attack, Sora cried out the signal.

" _Now!"_

"Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin!" they yelled out in unison, slamming their weapons at the ground just as they sprang out from the ground.

Pained cries emanated from where their blades struck. A third silhouette slithered away from the slashes' vicinity, tackling his full weight into Sora's midriff with a guttural roar. He seized Sora by the throat, pinning him onto the ground like how a provoked predator incapacitates its prey. His vision cleared just enough to see yet _another_ of the demon's clones, this one having two horns, surfacing with a ugly glower.

"You brat!" snarled the two-horned demon. "Stop meddling! You're going to ruin the taste of her flesh."

"Let him go!" cried Xion, swinging her silver katana in an elegant arc.

The demon grunted in annoyance, flipping his body out of harm's way, in the nick of time, just as the tip of Xion's sword grazed his long hair. Severed strands of black hair drifted to the ground, in the wake of its owner's last minute evasion of the otherwise deadly attack. He melted back into the shadows, rejoining his other two clones some distance away.

"Thanks," grunted Sora, quickly recovering from the lunge and resuming his stance.

"Don't mention it," she replied simply, narrowing her eyes at the trio of demons. "We got two of them, but it looks like it isn't enough to take them out."

Suddenly, Xion snapped her eyes behind her, launching herself into the air and did a front somersault, viciously bringing down her blade at a demon trying to sneak up to a defenseless Kazumi. Her katana severed off an arm of the three-horned demon just as it was about to snatch the girl from Kazumi's grasp. It shrieked, hastily diving back into the shadows.

"I missed!" cursed Xion, veins beginning to bulge out of her forehead. "I should've used the First Form!"

"Calm down," pacified Sora. "If things come to the worst, then'll we stall him long enough to expose him to sunlight."

"AIEEE!" screeched the two-horned demon, pointing irately at the unconscious girl in Kazumi's arms. "Stop getting in the way! Don't you know that she's already sixteen? Girls get less and less tasty as soon as they pass that age! And you, you backstabbing bitch! What the hell are you doing, siding with humans?!"

"You're disgusting," spat the demoness, her pupils manifesting into cat-like slits.

"Show some restraint, other me," admonished a collected voice that could only belong to the one-horned clone. "Let her do as she wishes. She'll eventually receive her comeuppance from the Lord."

 _Lord… does he mean Kibutsuji Muzan?,_ thought Sora, recalling Urokodaki's lectures about demons. There was only one demon who could turn humans into demons: Kibutsuji Muzan, the one responsible for their brutal deaths and the one who turned Xion.

"You know Kibutsuji Muzan?" exclaimed Sora. "What do you know? Tell me!"

"That isn't something we can speak freely, brat," scoffed One-Horn derisively. A tinge of terror spiked the tense night air even at the implied mention of Muzan. "And don't bother asking every demon you come across about him. No demon can utter his name aloud, much less speak about him freely."

"Bah!" scoffed the two-horned copy grumpily. "Enough of that pointless chattering! I'm still craving more of that tender meat of human girls!"

"Haven't you had enough already?" rebuked One-Horn. "I've eaten plenty of sixteen-years-old girls from this town. They're all so meaty and flavourful! That's good enough for me."

"Well, I simply can't get enough of them!" retorted Two-Horns. "I'm still hungry!"

"You… you monster…" breathed Kazumi, his voice shaking with horror. "Where's Satoko! Let her go! I know you took her two nights ago!"

"Hmm?" One-Horn turned a curious gaze at the trembling Kazumi. "What are you yapping on about? I have never heard such a name before. But…"

He unpinned his robe, revealing a colourful assortment of hairpins held within the flap of his clothing. Xion let out a growl of distaste at the sight, bloodlust oozing from her and hanging around her body like a thick, stubborn odour.

"If her hairpin is among this collection, then I've already eaten her."

Kazumi fell to his knees, choking out a cry in despair. That was the last straw for Xion; she went straight for One-Horn, who promptly engaged her in battle. Sora stiffened, starkly reminded of the bloody night of the Kamados' brutal murder and Xion's demonic transformation. A pungent smell shot through his nose, and he immediately pinpointed the origin at a spot right beside his right foot.

Sora jumped back, just as Three-Horns pounced on him, jabbing a clawed hand at where he previously stood. Instead, the blow collided against an adjacent wall, leaving behind an impressively deep crater on the solid surface.

 _Oh man, they're strong!,_ perspired Sora.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust!_

Thrusting his katana, Sora stabbed at Three-Horns' head, intending to stun it long enough for him to lop his head off. The katana pierced through the demon's head from the temples, but instead of freezing at the spot in pain like intended, it backfired. Screeching in pain, Three-Horns yanked its impaled head free from the blade, hastily plunging back underground while yipping piteously like a wounded wild animal.

He cursed, but his opponents gave him no privilege of finishing his sentence. Quickly following up Three-Horns' retreat, Two-Horns sprang out from the wall, sending quick jabs as he screamed out furious strings of obscenities at Sora. At the last second, he leapt back, before rushing back into attacking range with his sword drawn back, mentally calling out the technique he was about to unleash upon Two-Horns.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Fourth Form: Striking Tide!_

Twisting his body, Sora brought his sword down in multiple slashes in succession, dicing Two-Horns up into meaty chunks and his head severed. In his last moments, Two-Horns still had enough energy to muster up a bone-chilling glare, his defeated body falling apart into bloody pieces and crumbling into ash.

"You think you're so great, huh?" sneered Two-Horns, the decapitated head hitting the ground with a sickening thud. "Well, let's see how _you_ like it when you're fighting on low ground!"

Gravity seized Sora, barely allowing him time to yell out in alarm, pulling him into the murky depths of the Horned Demons' underground turf. He sank at an alarmingly rapid rate; before he knew it, he was pulled into the dark depths of a watery bog. Fabrics of different colours and patterns floated by - all of them clothing worn by the innocent victims that had cruelly fallen to the demon's hand.

 _So many…_ mused Sora, feeling a spike of white-hot anger scorching inside him. _Unforgivable!_

Two silhouettes surged past him in lazy circles, like two predators sizing up their meal before making the kill. In the decreased visibility of the swamp, Sora could see Three-Horns gnashing its teeth in glee, leering at him with bloodthirsty eyes. One-Horn was significantly more dignified and composed than Three-Horns, but it was hard to miss with the glint of sadistic delight in his glowing red eyes the moment he noticed the slayer within his bog. Dried blood caked his chest and arms in slashes, some of them suspiciously jagged as if a beast had raked its claws into his flesh. So Xion managed to score some hits on him, but could not finish the job.

"Well, well," drawled One-Horn. "Who do we have here?"

 _The air here is thin. I shouldn't waste my breath,_ thought Sora, assuming his stance once again.

"You are a fool to come here," taunted One-Horn. "There is no air here in this bog. The darkness here will surround and weigh you down! Also, you can't move like you did on land. Coming here is like asking for a death wish."

Sora narrowed his eyes into a glare, making a dramatic show of tightening his grip on the hilt of his nichirin blade.

Three-Horns ground its teeth, producing an unbearable screech in what almost sounded like a crude mimicry of speech. One-Horn's countenance suddenly gained a contemplative quality, staring at Sora with blank eyes as if re-evaluating his prior judgement of him.

"So… my fallen aspect was the one who transported you here? This will be interesting," he sneered, eyes glowing just a tad brighter in excitement. "Without your demon companion, killing you will be a piece of cake!"

They darted, swerving at impossibly sharp angles and at such astounding speeds that it was difficult to keep track of them. Taken aback, Sora's concentration broke, his focus rapidly switching from one demon to the other as he tried to adjust his sense of pacing to match theirs. As he is now, there was no way he could catch up to their speed!

A fist collided painfully into Sora's sternum, followed up with multiple vicious kicks delivered at his sides and his torso. Resisting the urge to yell out in pain, he stoically endured, channeling every ounce of his strength left to create a desperate attempt at jailbreak from the onslaught of attacks.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Sixth Form: Whirlpool!_

Normally, such an attack in this environment would have been the finishing blow. With Sora's current weakened state, he was unable to twist his body violently enough to generate the lethal momentum for the whirlpool. The end result was of a pathetic vortex that whisked them away from attacking range, dealing no visible damage to them other than mild bemusement. Mocking laughter reverberated through the despairing swamp, accompanied by an equally condescending screech.

"Ha! That was pathetic!" insulted One-Horn. "Since we're already here, we might as well get a snack. Playing around has made me hungry."

The slayer's eyes widened. Still guffawing, the two remaining aspects surfaced once more, much to his growing horror. Ignoring the pain flaring throughout his body, he forced his legs to propel him upwards to the surface as quickly as possible. Closing his eyes, he braced himself as he launched himself back onto land, ending up a bit too high off the ground.

 _A bit too high!,_ thought Sora in alarm. _Since when did my legs become this powerful…?_

Determined to turn it into an advantage, Sora adjusted the direction of his fall so that its trajectory headed towards an occupied One-Horn. The calm and collected demon had engaged Xion in close-quarter combat once more, with the former using various techniques from the Breath of Water in her attempt to end him. Drawing his sword-arm back, Sora readied another form.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin!_

The katana ended up lopping One-Horn's entire shoulder off, instead of splitting him cleanly in half as expected. He screamed in agony, instinctively rearing back, his detached arm falling into the bog with a splash. Regardless of execution, the blow was distracting enough to keep the demonic aspect in his place, just long enough for Xion to see and exploit the opening. Swiftly swinging her blade in a horizontal glinting arc of silver, it connected with One-Horn's neck, decapitating the demon for good.

Remembering something at the last minute, Sora ran towards the disintegrating remains of the fallen aspect, ripping off a portion of the demon's robes where the hairpins of the victims he had consumed were kept and pocketing it. He gave the deteriorating head a final pitying gaze, before turning his back on it before it crumbled away into nothingness.

"Good thing you kept him in place," sighed Xion, some dried blood caked near her left eye. "I thought I was never going a land a hit on him, with how he keeps diving back underground."

"There's still one left," reminded Sora, pointing at the gnashing Three-Horns with his katana.

"You chase him out, I deal the killing blow?" suggested Xion.

Sora nodded, gazing at the gradually shrinking pool that One-Horn left behind. "Keep your eyes peeled. No telling where I'll force him out of."

With that said, Sora drew in a deep breath and took the plunge, returning to the murky bog where the demon aspects called their turf. Three-Horns saw him, his eyes blazing with fury as he gnashed his teeth harder. Like before, he shot towards Sora, brandishing its razor-sharp claws and screeching like a demented banshee.

_Oh no, you don't._

Eyes zeroing on the speeding demon, Sora stiffened his body, anticipating for the right moment. The demon continued its mindless rush, not showing any signs of stopping. Just as its claws were less than an inch away from his face, he sidestepped, letting the surprised demon overshoot from its target. Not wasting another second, Sora rammed the butt of his nichirin blade into Three-Horns' back, before delivering a vicious knee to his stomach, sending him flying out of his turf.

" _Xion, now!"_

His job done, Sora swam back to the surface, just in time to see Three-Horns getting beheaded by an impressive display of Water Wheel.

Xion did not relax until she saw the last of Three-Horns' corpse breaking down into ash. Then, she stood, her form trembling before she slumped to her knees, her nichirin blade clattering loudly onto the ground. Alarmed, Sora ran over to her.

"Xion!" he cried out, supporting her back with one arm. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she gasped out. "Just tired, is all."

"Here," said Sora, removing the box from his back and placing it in front of Xion. "Go take a rest. You deserved it."

Nodding gratefully, she shrunk herself into her child form and squeezed herself into the box, closing the box behind her with a soft click of a latch clasping from the inside. He then walked towards her dropped katana, picking it up and sheathing it back into the scabbard fastened onto the side of the box. Sora smiled nostalgically as he sheathed his own katana, reminiscing all the battles he endured when he traversed the worlds as a Keyblade Wielder.

Quiet sobbings snapped Sora out of his trance. A shock jolted through him; he almost forgot that Kazumi was with them during the entire fight with the Horned Demons!

"Kazumi," Sora called gently, kneeling down onto one knee, so that he was at Kazumi's eye level. "Are you all right?"

"…What do you think?" he breathed out, shaken. "I've lost my betrothed. Do you think I'm fine?"

"Look," began Sora, breathing deeply as he pondered on how to address Kazumi. "I know you're hurt. The one you loved the most is ripped away from you unjustly. I understand those feelings."

Kazumi gazed into Sora's eyes with newfound wonder.

"But…" he continued. "You still need to live on. No matter how beaten down you may be, you need to keep on living. Don't ever think moving on is forsaking your memories of Satoko. She may no longer be with you physically, but she still lives on in your heart. If you're really meant to be, then your heart will lead you back to her, one day, in another life."

 _Don't be like me,_ begged Sora, staring deeply into Kazumi. _Don't ever let your grief control you. If you do, all you'll get is a life full of pain and regret._

"What do you know?!" Kazumi burst out, clutching Sora at his checkered haori. "You're just a kid!"

"Trust me," whispered Sora, his eyes and smile reflecting plaintively as he gently placed a hand on Kazumi's. "Your heartache may or may not fade away in time, but please do live on, regardless of what happens. Don't ever make the same mistakes I did."

Rummaging through his pocket, Sora fished out the torn robe containing all of the demon's collection of hairpins, handing it to a distraught Kazumi. "Here. I hope you find something of Satoko's in here to remember her by."

Kazumi accepted it with shaking hands, silently watching Sora rise back to full height and bowing apologetically at him. Flashing him with a final encouraging smile, the slayer set off, walking some distance away without looking back. A bolt of revelation hit Kazumi, comprehension finally dawning on him as to why Sora had given him those advice as if he had lived through them.

"Wait, Tanjiro-kun!" called Kazumi. Sora halted, slowly turning to address him, his smile still present.

"Yes, Kazumi?" asked Sora, baring him a warm smile that seemed almost childish. "Is something the matter?"

"I'm sorry for saying those mean things to you!" apologised Kazumi, bowing deeply. "Please forgive me!"

"Eh, don't worry about it," the slayer waved off graciously. "If I were you, I would have been acting the same way as well."

"Is it… alright if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"Are… are you looking for someone?" he tentatively asked. "Someone… that you remember from a past life, perhaps?"

"How did you figure that out?" said Sora, after falling silent for a short while.

"From the way you spoke," answered Kazumi. "You were saying it as if you were living through it. …Did you?"

"Yes," confirmed Sora, nodding solemnly at Kazumi's question. "I made a promise that I'll come and find them if we were ever separated, no matter where and when."

"Oh… then, I wish you luck in finding them," said Kazumi sincerely.

"Thank you," replied Sora, eyes glistening slightly. "My mission here is done, so I need to go now. Goodbye, and thanks again for all the help you've given us!"

He walked some distance away, before waving Kazumi farewell and sprinting off. After sometime, Sora slowed down his pace into a leisurely stroll, yawning lethargically as he headed for the outskirts of the town. He thought back to the progenitor of all demons, sombrely wondering how many innocents had suffered at his hands because of his selfish actions, especially when his underlings were included.

Could it be that Muzan was chosen to be Darkness' new vessel…? The demons sure reeked of darkness… at least, based on what Riku told him about how the darkness smells like to him - a pungent odour like rotten eggs.

"Oof!" grunted Sora, bumping into a cart-turned-stall filled with trinkets of sorts. Some items that were set on display fell onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised, bowing deeply. "Here. I'll help you pick up your provisions."

Without a word, he scurried off, quickly picking up the fallen charms and gathering them into a heap with one arm, depositing them into a messy pile on the stall. The vendor scrutinised Sora, leaning over to get a better look at him. The latter reared, astonished to see someone shoving their face so close to his.

"Mm-hm!" hummed the vendor, as if pleased by something. "Finally! I found an owner for this charm."

"What?" gaped Sora, even more bewildered by the old man's eccentricities.

"That's how I run my business, yes siree!" said the vendor, puffing out his chest in pride. "I don't just sell my charms to just anyone, oh no! I pair them up with one of my lovelies, and they'll have to take it, whether they like or not!"

"Uh, that sounds…" he chuckled nervously, only to be interrupted by the vendor.

"Here!" declared the elderly vendor, pushing a very familiar silver chain towards Sora. "This is a special one, even by my standards. Make sure you never let it out of sight, alright?"

 _My crown necklace!,_ recognised Sora, amazed.

"If I may ask, where did you get this charm?" asked Sora, scratching his head curiously. "It doesn't look like anything from around here."

"Oh ho! I'm glad you asked," he yelled, wagging a finger at the slayer in excitement. "Its creator, my ancestor, claims that it was a replica of a necklace worn by a courageous warrior. The greatest the world has ever seen, he reckoned! But, we couldn't find anyone that complements it perfectly, until you came in, that is! Your eyes have the fire of a true warrior!"

"Uh, thanks?" Sora wasn't sure if the old man had lost his marbles, or was genuinely complimenting him. "How much is it?"

"100 yen," answered the vendor, looking at Sora with expectant eyes.

Fishing out his money pouch, he paid the exact amount, not wanting to waste time to wait for the change. Gleeful, the vendor shoved the charm into Sora's hands, and wheeled his stall off with astounding speed, leaving a cloud of yellow dust in his wake. The slayer stared after him, sweatdropping and idly wondering what was with old men and their deceptively fit physique. He glanced at the gleaming crown necklace in his hands, a fond smile creeping up his face.

 _Well, at least I have it back,_ shrugged Sora, wearing his newly acquired necklace. _Now they might recognise me more easily._

"Caw!" screeched Matsuemon, landing onto Sora's shoulder. "Now you must head to the south-east, caw! Eliminate a demon rumoured to be roaming the area!"

"What? Already?" blurted Sora in surprise and dismay. "Can't I catch a break?"

"No, you lazy bum, caw!" admonished Matsuemon, pecking hard at Sora's tough noggin. "Just go already! No waiting, caw! If you do, I'll peck your eyes out!"

"Jeez, fine!" sighed Sora, swatting irritably at Matsuemon. "I'll go, happy? Lead the way, as usual."

Cawing, Matsuemon took to the skies, with Sora trailing behind it exasperatedly.

* * *

The next destination was very far away from the site of his first assignment. Even with Sora tirelessly walking on foot for the entire day, he had only covered more than a quarter of the entire route. By then, dusk had already fallen, and he was completely washed out from fighting the Horned Demon and trekking for miles with a heavy box on his back. Not to mention that travelling at night was risky, regardless of the traveller.

Fortunately, there was an inn along the way where Sora could rest for the night. He walked over to the counter. An innkeeper glanced furtively at him from behind his newspaper.

"One room for two for the night, please," requested Sora, raising two fingers as he leant over the counter.

"Why two, boy?" questioned the innkeeper with narrowed eyes, setting aside his newspaper. "There's only you here."

"I have a travelling companion who's currently occupied with something else," replied Sora, nervously drumming his fingers against his thigh.

"I see," nodded the salt-and-pepper man. "So what's with the getup? I hardly see anyone carrying swords like yours out in the open anymore. Not since the Edo Period, anyway."

"Ah…" he murmured, bewildered by the unexpected inquiry about his uniform. "That's-"

"Speaking of which," blabbed the innkeeper, oblivious to Sora's apparent discomfort. "There's another lad who came in before you, wearing a uniform almost identical to yours. I think he's still around. So, name?"

"Um, Tanjiro Kamado," answered Sora.

The innkeeper scribbled down his name into a logbook in a messy scrawl, to which Sora noticed that he misspelled some characters of his name. Not that it mattered, the kanji combinations still sounded the same. The man then yanked out a drawer, rifled through a collection of skeleton keys before fishing out a tarnished silver one and passing it to Sora.

"Room 13, right at the end of the hallway over there," informed the innkeeper, turning his full attention back to his newspaper. "Now scram. I still have three more riddles to solve."

"Gee, thanks for the wonderful service" he muttered sarcastically.

Sora silently trudged off to the aforementioned corridor, deciding to give the middle-aged man some peace. As he walked past some doors, Sora mumbled the numbers of the room aloud, trying to find the number of his room.

"Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twe-"

Before Sora could finish uttering the number, the door to number twelve slammed open. Out stomped an incensed boy - who Sora idly noted reeked slightly of wisteria - donning the Corps' Uniform, with windswept hair the colour of a clear summer sky. Two nichirin blades slung at his belt, one having a golden handguard resembling an oval with four indents and the other a silver handguard shaped like a cross with each spike fashioned in the image of an arrowhead. He glared at Sora.

"What are you looking at, twerp?" snarled the boy, storming off while muttering angry curses under his breath.

"Jeez, I wonder what's got him so riled up," commented Sora, bewildered by the inexplicable display of rage directed at him.

Staring after the irate slayer, he shrugged, returning to his previous task of finding his room. Room 13 was situated beside Room 12, where he saw the swordsman stomp out of. Inserting the key and unlocking the room, he entered the room, closing the door behind him with a click.

After lighting up the lamps in the room, Sora removed the box, settling it gently onto the floor and knocked on the top. "Xion? Are you awake?"

She groaned, followed by a dull thump and a sluggish click. The door of the box gave way. Xion, in her child form, slumped ungraciously onto the floor. "Five more minutes…"

"You're still tired, even after sleeping the entire day away?" teased Sora, amused by her behaviour. He got up, drawing the curtains shut. "You can continue sleeping once you set up your futon. It'll be more comfortable than in the box."

"Mm-kay," she slowly stood up, reverting to her normal height.

Xion toddled unsteadily behind Sora, groggily taking a rolled-up futon from him and spread it in the middle of the room. With that done, she collapsed onto the soft white sheets, asleep the moment her body hit the fabric. Chuckling to himself, he tucked her in with a blanket, brushing some stray strands of her hair off her face before going to bed himself.

They did not rest for long. Just when it seemed like seconds after closing his eyes, angry poundings shook the siblings awake.

"Hey! You're a demon slayer as well, right?" shouted the person. "Hurry up and get ready!"

"What's going on?" slurred Xion, eyes half-lidded from grogginess.

"I'll go check," announced Sora, getting out of his bedclothes and shuffling towards the door. He yanked it open. "Is there something wrong?"

"Didn't you hear me?" snapped the blue-haired slayer from before. "I said get ready! You're coming with me."

"What is this about?" mumbled Sora, confused by the boy's grouchy attitude. "And why do you need me? If it's a demon attack, then I can see why you called for me."

"Stop asking questions. As your senior, I have the right to call the shots," he shot back. "The name's Akihiko Fuji, but call me only by my last name or else. If I catch you dawdling, I'll throw you to the demons weaponless!"

"Fine, fine," acquiesced Sora, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He retreated into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Who is it?" asked Xion, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawned.

"Someone from the Corps with an incurably large ego," he muttered darkly. "Don't worry, I'll handle it. Go back to sleep, or else you wouldn't recover fully."

"No. I'm coming with you," declared Xion, standing up and matching his eye level. "This slayer sounds like he desperately needs to eat humble pie."

"No arguing with you, is there?" sighed Sora, long since resigned to Xion's obstinacy. Even as a human, she proved herself to be stubborn, especially when she was absolutely certain that she was in the right. Her demonification had only enhanced that endearing yet frustrating aspect of her personality. "Since he doesn't know you're in here, you'll have to cram yourself back in the box. Don't come out unless I tell you to."

Nodding, she shrunk herself, waddling back into the box and shutting it. Sora changed back into his uniform, slinging the sword back onto his belt before shouldering the box.

"Alright, I'm ready," reported Sora, opening the door to greet Fuji.

"Hmph. About time," sneered Fuji, pushing himself back up from his leaning position. "I was starting to think you chickened out."

 _Just what is his problem…?,_ fumed Sora, his bottom eyelid twitching in rage.

" _The nerve of him,"_ growled Xion, quiet scratches emanating from the box. _"I'll be happy to let him get ripped up before helping him."_

The senior member of the Corps proceeded to lead him out of the inn, and into the wilderness near where their lodgings are. There was no light to illuminate their way, except for the dim light from the full moon. Even then, the complete darkness did not hinder their movements in any way, and both kept a consistent, synchronised pace with each other. With Sora's enhanced smell, it was easy for him to avoid any exposed roots or protruding rocks that could trip any unaware traveller.

Suspicion surged within Sora. The more they traversed through the darkness of the woods, the more apparent it became that Fuji was keeping something from them.

"Where exactly are you taking us?" Sora finally demanded.

"…I'm not strong enough," mumbled Fuji flatly, staring at a nondescript spot ahead of them, never looking back at Sora. The latter's nose twitched, detecting the scent of regret, grief and self-loathing. "I'll never attain the strength I need. It still surprises me, to this day, that I survived for this long. Yet, no matter how many demons I killed, it wasn't enough to end him."

"Excuse me?"

"None of your beeswax," scolded Fuji. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?"

"Well, then tell me this: why are you taking us so deep into the woods?" snarked Sora, crossing his arms. "If you need help, why don't you just ask for it?"

"Need some help keeping your mouth shut?" threatened the blue-haired teen, locking his furious eyes with Sora's. "I don't need help, okay?! Just beat it; I don't need you in this fight anymore!"

Whirling, he stormed off, leaving Sora alone in the ominous darkness of the woods. The latter's eyes widened, subconsciously pursuing after Fuji at full-speed with the aid of Total Concentration, all the while calling after his fickle and ill-tempered companion. His cries were all futile, as Fuji only sped up upon noticing that Sora was trying to catch up to him.

" _He wanted us here because he wasn't confident in taking down a demon?"_ wondered Sora. _"And from the smell he gives out, it's probably the reason Fuji joined the Corps."_

" _You think he wanted revenge?"_ proposed Xion, stirring restlessly within the confines of the box.

" _Seems like it,"_ agreed Sora, forcing more strength into his aching legs. _"But with his current state, I don't think he would be in his best shape. I feel kind of bad for him now; maybe I should've just let him lead me on…?"_

" _Don't,"_ she stated bluntly. _"Although, admittedly, you could have approached the issue with some tact."_

Sora snorted, grinding to a halt when he saw Fuji's mop of blue hair in front of a cave. A powerful stench from a demon hit him over, almost forcing Sora to kneel onto his knees and spewing out the contents of his stomach. Clasping a hand to his nose, he gazed into the sinister depths of the cave, his heart pounding violently against his chest in sheer horror.

"You know, it isn't weak to ask for help when you need it," he remarked with a smile. "No one can do everything by themselves. Asking for help just shows you know your limits."

"You're still here?" snorted Fuji derisively. His face was facing away from Sora, but he could smell the astonishment from him.

"Even though you act like a jerk, it just isn't right to leave you," continued Sora. "Let me come with you in this fight. I'm only a rookie, but I'll do my best to support you."

"Why bother?" the senior slayer spat out. "You even said it yourself. I'm not someone that anyone would miss. I'm better off dying in my pathetic attempt at revenge. If it's for your stupid conscience, then-"

"I'm going with you, whether you like it or not," insisted Sora. "Since you've already dragged me out here, might as well finish what we started."

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" muttered Fuji underneath his breath, shaking his head incredulously. "Fine, I'll take you on that offer. But I'm leaving you to die if you chicken out at the last minute."

"Don't worry. I don't plan to."

They stepped into the cave.

* * *

"So why do you want to kill this demon so badly?"

"It razed my home to the ground," huffed Fuji, spitting out 'it' like it was a vile-tasting substance. The fire on the torch crackled violently as if to reflect his sheer loathing of the demon. "Because of it, my parents are dead, and I got separated from my siblings. I don't even know whether they're still alive."

"Okay, that sucks," winced Sora sympathetically. "What about the demon? Is it the objective of the mission you are currently on?"

"No," replied Fuji. "I was on my way to another mission when I felt _its_ vile presence here, back at the inn. You kinda had some idea on what happened next."

"So that's why you looked so pissed off," he commented. "Anyway, you could sense demons?"

"Yeah. It's a glorified form of battle intuition, in my opinion," the blue-haired teen chuckled humorlessly. "As long as the demon is within a certain range, I will be able to track it down. Quite useless at pinpointing their exact location in battle, but useful when I'm tracking them down in a wider area."

"Cool!" marvelled Sora, eyes sparkling with awe. "What breath style do you use?"

"My cultivator teaches the Breath of Thunder," explained Fuji. "But I quickly found out my body wasn't built for it, so I tweaked it to suit me. I call it _'Breath of Light'._ "

"I know someone who uses the Breath of Thunder," piped Sora. "His name is-"

His sentence halted mid-way when a cold gust of wind swept by, extinguishing their sole source of light and plunging them into the depths of darkness. The ever-present stench rose in intensity, so revolting that it clogged his nose and its scent literally suffocating Sora. Just how many people had this demon consumed?! Trying to even out his breathing rhythm, he made a wild grab for Fuji's wrist for support.

"It's… here," choked Sora, gasping wildly for air. "It… stinks! I can't… breathe!"

"Take this," said Fuji, shoving a brown bandanna into Sora's hand. "Wrap it around your face. Should be enough to keep your mind clear enough to fight."

Obliging, he quickly wrapped the cloth tightly around his nose, blocking out the stench just enough for Sora to breathe normally. He gasped a few times to compensate for the lack of air previously, eventually dialling the frantic rhythms down to his usual soft and calm pace.

As if sensing Sora's distress, Xion burst out from her container, unsheathing her katana and stood guard in front of the two boys.

"Xion!" hissed Sora, alarmed that his demon companion had emerged from the box.

"As if I'll let you fight alone!" remonstrated Xion. "Don't forget; I'm still capable on my own."

"Where did this demon come from?" uttered Fuji, astounded, as he unsheathed one of his nichirin blades.

"She has a name, you know!" defended Sora, shooting Fuji a dirty look as he armed himself. "And what do you mean _fight alone?"_

"Ooh, look who we have here," crooned a guttural voice. Dull stomping like an elephant's footsteps echoed ominously through the room. "Two slayers, and a… demon? This will be interesting."

The heavy footsteps halted, replaced by heavy sniffing. "Wait. I recognise that smell. The scent of wisteria! Faint, but still noticeable…"

"That would be me!" declared Fuji, taking a step forward. "I'm the one who you missed out that night, many years ago!"

"Oh ho!" cheered the faceless demon. "A member of the wisteria house, you say? And a slayer, no less? This will make your flesh even more coveted!"

Something cold and sharp battered against them. Initially caught off-guard, they stumbled briefly, but quickly regained their bearings. Maneuvering their katanas to match the speed of the chilly projectiles, the trio deflected most of the razor-tipped shards away, occasionally slicing a few into pieces. The shattered remains clinked onto the rocks.

" _Ice shards?"_ Xion spoke through the mental link.

"The smell of wisteria doesn't bother me as much as most demons. Do you know why?" he taunted, mocking laughter reverberating inside the confined field. "Because I almost exclusively consume members of the wisteria house! In fact, I've come to develop a partiality towards humans who smell like wisteria. Too bad you'll never hold on to that knowledge for long."

"You… you monster!" breathed Fuji, his voice trembling. "Take this! Breath of Light, Fifth Form: Last Saber - Threefold!"

"Fuji, wait!" called Xion, trying to stop the enraged slayer from recklessly jumping into battle. "The demon is no longer around! Don't go there!"

Heedless of Xion's frantic cries, Fuji lunged at a zig-zag pattern at where the demon was presumed to be, travelling at a speed that rivalled Zenitsu's Thunderclap and Flash. He drew his blade back, delivering three powerful swings in rapid succession - only for it to hit nothing but a stone decoy. Eyes widening, the teen realised his mistake too late. Something rammed into his torso, sending him crashing into a surprised Sora. They fell on their rear, or onto a tough-as-nails box in Sora's case. Something clattered beside his fingertips in the wake of their fall. Instinctively, he grasped it, tucking it securely into a hidden pocket inside his haori.

"Get up!" groused Sora, trying to push Fuji off him. "You're crushing me."

Muttering a halfhearted apology, Fuji rolled onto the ground, allowing Sora to pick himself back up.

"Ha, pathetic!" the demon mocked. "Are you so foolhardy that you would blindly rush into the darkness?"

"This demon can use the shadows to teleport around," explained Xion, warily scanning their surroundings. Her pinkish-indigo irises gleamed like two small beacons in the darkness. "I saw him melting into the darkness when Fuji was rushing in."

"What? But that makes no sense!" exclaimed Fuji. "How can it manipulate ice if its Blood Demon Art is controlling the shadows? Demons can only have one form of Blood Demon Art!"

"…Xion," blurted Sora, suddenly remembering an important detail about her past. "No offence, but can't you do the same as well? Since, you know…"

"I don't think I can anymore," she replied nervously. "I've lost touch with the darkness ever since I 'woke up'. It wouldn't obey me like it did before."

"Why can't she?" questioned Fuji. "That's her Blood Demon Art, isn't it? No reason for her to lose it out of the blue."

"Uh, that's…"

"Don't you feel here is a bit too cramped to initiate a battle?" drawled their mysterious opponent. "Well, no worries. I know the perfect place!"

"Wait, n-!" yelped Sora, only for his sentence to be interrupted by being pulled into a black hole.

The sensation of hurtling into a bottomless abyss and the startled screams of his companions were the last things he remembered, before all of his consciousness succumbed to the sudden wave of weakness seizing his entire body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I did okay for the fight scenes... For some reason, no matter how many times I rewrote it, it still feels a bit forced and stiff. I gave up after the n-th try, which is the version that I felt was the most adequate out of the many versions I've written. So, thoughts? Please tell me if I'm going too fast. I tend to rush things, since I'm generally an impatient/impulsive person in real life.


	9. Reignite, Flames of Legends!

When Sora regained consciousness, he immediately realised that he was screwed. Badly.

The first thing that registered tellingly in his foggy mind was of an endless dark void. Well, it wasn't exactly a void, per se; just that the darkness that enveloped Sora was so intense that it wouldn't make a difference had he been blind in this situation. What followed next was the ever-present foul stench that seemed to permeate from his surroundings, as if the entire field was a physical extension of the demon they had the misfortune of encountering. The reeking odour clogged up his nose, disabling his sense of smell completely. That made him double incapacitated.

Not to mention the infuriating high-pitched buzzings in Sora's ears that blocked his sense of hearing entirely.

In essence, he was virtually helpless.

Sora didn't know if he had been separated from the others, or if they were in the same room, but still unconscious. That was worrying; the only member in his party that could navigate in the dark without a hitch was Xion, perfect night vision apparently being one perk of becoming a demon. Even then, that was no valid reason to lie down and die.

Cautiously, he pushed himself up, feeling his fingers digging into the dirt and his fingertips grazing the surface of what felt like bedrock. Patting the immediate area around him, Sora felt the hilt of his fallen nichirin blade, picking it up and sheathing it back into his scabbard, slowly, before removing the scabbard from his belt.

He stood to full height, tapping at his surroundings with the sheathed katana, like how a blind man would when trying to gauge their surroundings. When he felt only emptiness before him, Sora diverted the sword towards his sides. They knocked against solid rock, barely enough room for him to spread his arms out freely.

Sora backed up a few steps, only to find something unyielding bumping into the box strapped onto his back upon the third step. A dead-end?

 _A dead-end behind, walls flanking closely by my sides, and a corridor in front… no way Xion and Fuji would be with me,_ mused Sora. _They must be somewhere else. Nowhere to go but forward, huh?_

He sighed, placing both one hand on the left cave wall as he fumbled his way through the corridor, with his makeshift support cane tapping before him. Deep inside, Sora fervently prayed that his already horrible luck wouldn't decide to take a nosedive. Fighting while blind was difficult, but still doable; but with three of his most important senses muffled? Taking him down would be as easy as knocking a toddler off-balance.

It was in these kinds of situations that made Sora sorely wished that he still had the Keyblade. Even if he couldn't fight as well as before, at least he wouldn't be completely caught unaware.

He had fumbled through the dark for an unknown period, the befuddling darkness guiding him into a myriad of twists and turns through the maze. Every so often, he would hit a dead-end; he would then have to backtrack - at a painstakingly slow pace - to where he started and press his side against the other wall in the futile hopes that it would lead him elsewhere. Sometimes, Sora felt as if he had been walking in circles, since he hit so many of those dastardly dead ends, all of them too familiar for comfort.

The buzzings inside his ears weren't doing him any favours, either. The farther Sora ventured into this dark labyrinth, the more disorienting it got. It took him everything to keep himself standing firmly on both feet and not keel over in giddiness.

 _Fuji, Xion, where are you?,_ wondered Sora.

Upon harbouring that thought, everything went silent. Even the buzzings that plagued him had finally left him alone, letting a sinister eeriness descend onto Sora. Horror washed over him, as he tentatively raised a hand to cup over one ear.

Nothing.

He tried to suppress the rapidly rising panic within him. Before, his ears were muffled, but now? He was deaf, stone deaf.

Sora didn't realise he'd been hyperventilating until the dull ache at his chest registered in his frantic mind. Gripping over his heart, he drew in a few deep but shaky breaths, trying his best to compose himself and to steady his own breathing. He shook his head, discarding all the distracting thoughts that clouded his mind.

"Focus, Sora!" he chided himself, slapping both of his cheeks.

Something icy cold draped over Sora's neck. Startled, he spun, unsheathing his nichirin blade and swinging it in a horizontal arc in one fluid motion, high-strung from his literal blindness to his surroundings.

"Who's there?" Sora felt his lips forming those words. He probably yelled, if the dry hoarseness in his throat were anything to go by. "Show yourself!"

Chilly air rippled against his exposed skin, almost feeling like laughter. The frigid touch of a clawed hand returned, this time on his chest. Shuddering in disgust, he lashed out his sword into a diagonal slash, his blood running cold with shock when he felt nothing colliding against the steel blade. The temperature of the vicinity plummeted by at least twenty degrees. Undiluted horror sank into Sora's heart, dragging it deeper towards the depths of fear.

 _Is the demon here?,_ he thought, alarmed and fearful. _I can't fight something that I can't detect!_

As if answering his unsaid question, something similar to a curved spike grazed his cheek, leaving behind a streak of a burning sensation, the cut stinging at the exposure to the frosty temperatures. A warm sticky liquid dribbled down his face. Backing up a few steps, Sora turned tail and ran, not caring about keeping himself on his feet anymore. There was no point fighting a technically invisible opponent, and no way would he willingly let himself become the demon's punching bag by idling around. Not in a million years.

With nothing but his mediocre sense of touch and his honed battle instincts to guide him, he ran for his life. It was a good thing that even though Sora had been out of the battlefield for years, his instincts remained sharp as ever, allowing him to keep himself from tripping over any obstacles on the path. At some point, Sora had sheathed his sword back into its scabbard and replaced it back at his waist whilst he was running, not wanting to impale himself in the off-chance that he fell over.

However, his instincts could not detect the slimy hands that tried to seize him. It was only with the barest hints, like an almost unnoticeable gust of wind of something shooting past him, that was of any help. But it wasn't much help, since it only made him stumble over from disorientation. A few times, Sora had felt himself avoid their disgusting grasp by the breadth of a hair, feeling the tips of a claw scratching at him, the hands missing their target by merely a fraction of an inch. More often than not, he would swerve slightly to the side, just as icy gusts of wind carrying a sinister vibe brushed past him, caking him with a thin layer of frost.

By then, Sora was completely driven by the desire - the _need_ \- to escape from the presence that haunted him. Accelerating, ignoring the ache in his lungs from inhaling copious amounts of glacial air, he kept his guard up to the maximum for anything that attempted to make physical contact with him.

Something warm and wet trickled down his cheeks. Feeling a grunt rumble out from his throat, Sora forced himself to run faster, not wanting to let anything hinder him.

Then, wham! Sora crashed onto the ground, his face contorted into a pained grimace. He glared into the darkness of the void, trying to rise to his feet to assume a stance.

Keyword being tried.

To his horror, he could no longer feel his body. He was still conscious, yet no matter how much he wanted his body to move, it stubbornly remained in seiza position with his arms hanging limply by his sides, refusing to even shift a fraction of an inch. Sora wanted to scream, to flail, to do _anything_ that would assure him that he hadn't lost his motor functions.

He squirmed internally when he felt multiple hands grabbing onto his arms, one even slapping lightly at his cheeks. Those presences hung around him, and for a moment, Sora swore that there were hushed buzzings that resembled worried whispers vibrating in the air. The silence grew more and more overbearing until a single unspoken message shattered the eerie silence.

_Sora, what happened to you?_

* * *

Just as Sora awoke from his comatose state, Xion arose with a splitting migraine that didn't last for long.

Almost as soon as the pain subsided, she took in her new surroundings with a calculating gaze, taking in every single detail and noting anything that could pose a threat. Xion didn't enjoy being a demon, don't get her wrong, but it can prove useful in certain situations. Especially in situations where their opponents (almost always demons) purposefully made the battleground to their advantage.

When she found nothing, (except for two katanas, which she retrieved) Xion relaxed her stance slightly, glancing over to a still unconscious Akihiko Fuji.

"Hey, wake up!" hissed Xion, rocking the male slayer by the shoulder.

The blue-haired teen groaned, haphazardly swatting Xion's hand away before shifting himself away from her. "One more minute, nee-san…" he mumbled.

The bottom eyelid of Xion's left eye twitched, feeling the last of her already thinned-out patience snapping. A vein bulging at her temple, she pinched his exposed cheek with two partially sharpened claws, taking care so that her claws did not pierce through his skin. She may be forbidden to harm humans, but they didn't say that she couldn't inflict mild pain if they annoyed her!

Fuji let out a yelp, flinching in pain and rubbing a hand at his smarting cheek. For a moment, he looked confused, until the memories of prior events flooded back into his mind.

"About time you woke up," sniffed Xion, crossing her arms to her chest. She shoved the katana hilt-first into Fuji's hands. He opened his mouth, most likely to complain about her vicious wake-up call, prompting her to snap at him irritably. "Don't complain; if I hadn't done that, you'll probably be happy sleeping the day away. Here. Your sword."

Wordlessly, the teen accepted his katana, sheathing it back into its scabbard. Fuji scanned the surrounding area, his eyes strangely blank, as if he didn't know what to focus on.

"Where are we?" he said, fumbling around like a blind man. Well, technically he _is_ blind, as of this moment. "That demon sprang a trap on us, didn't it?"

"No idea," shrugged the demoness. "Looks like we got transported into an underground labyrinth. There's only you and me here. Sora must have somewhere else."

"Sora?" parroted Fuji, his face scrunched up in an unidentifiable emotion. "That name sounds familiar. Who is it?"

"The _rookie slayer_ that you insisted on dragging along?" snarked Xion, sarcastically rolling her eyes. "And my older brother."

"Is that his actual name, or a nickname you coined for him?" questioned the teen, his eyes narrowing in blatant bafflement. "I could have sworn that I heard the innkeeper calling him by another name when we left."

Xion cursed her slipup inwardly. A part of her argued that it didn't matter, since Sora no longer called her by the name she was given in this life, unless he was introducing her to strangers neither of them fully trust. Yet, it didn't matter much for her: people rarely saw her, since she could only come out in the dark. He, on the other hand, handled most of the interactions. If there was a clash in identities, well…

"His name is actually Tanjiro," explained Xion, a bit of anxiety seeping in. "My birth name is Nezuko, but refer to each other by nickname instead of the usual honorifics. He calls me Xion, since my favourite flower is aster. My brother's nickname is Sora."

"Is there a reason he chose that nickname?"

"I don't know," she frowned, deciding to change the subject before it wandered off into dangerous territory. "Anyway, we should find him now."

"That's nice, but I'm blind," stated Fuji, deadpanning.

"Oh, right," said Xion, scratching her cheek sheepishly. "Well, I'm not holding your hand, since you know… Do you have something I could work with? A cloth, or a piece of rope, maybe?"

"I got a bandanna," replied Fuji, pulling out a large white sheet from a pocket. "Will this be enough?"

"Yeah," nodded Xion. A thought entered her mind. "Say, why do you have so many bandannas on you? Didn't you give Sora one to help with his nose a while earlier?"

Fuji looked flustered at her observations. Averting his eyes to the ground, he mumbled something about finding bandannas a comforting presence. Xion thought his reaction was hilarious, although she hid her thoughts about it well. Setting aside her nichirin blade, she gripped both ends of the bandanna, tying one end onto her right wrist and securing it with a firm knot.

"Your left wrist," instructed Xion, not bothering to gesture since the darkness had impaired his vision. Her eyes widened slightly, recalling a crucial detail. "That's not your sword arm, is it…?"

"I'm ambidextrous," reassured Fuji, obliging Xion's instructions and offered said arm towards her. "My speciality is dual-wielding, so I'm equally adept with both arms. I can still fight decently with one sword, though."

"Good," the demoness sighed in relief, bending over to tie the other end onto Fuji's wrist. "You know, you remind me of a friend I had. He was a dual wielder like you."

"Really? That's something you don't hear every day," remarked Fuji, his eyes almost gleaming in excitement upon hearing someone who shares his area of expertise. "I seriously would like to get to know him. My techniques are self-developed, so it would be nice to have someone to compare with."

Xion smiled melancholically at that comment. "He's no longer around."

"Oh, sorry," he murmured sheepishly. "I didn't mean to reopen old wounds."

"Don't be," replied Xion, bowing her head down as if to hide her face. "At least he passed on happy and content."

They didn't exchange a word after that, letting an awkward silence drag out between them.

"All done," announced Xion, finally breaking the tense silence. She tugged at the fabric, making sure that it wouldn't fall apart at a mere pull.

Nodding mutely, Fuji rose to his feet, as did Xion. Sword in hand, since her scabbard was with Sora, they mutely departed from the room with the demoness taking the lead, guiding him through the twists and turns of the diabolical underground maze.

In any circumstances, Xion would find the silence of a walk comforting, except when she's travelling with Sora. That was one of the few exceptions, since her brother always had some way to keep things lively without conscious effort. With that thought in mind, not to mention the fact she was walking - with a _makeshift leash,_ mind you - with a total stranger who they met less than an hour ago. That would definitely warrant some awkwardness, at the very least.

Such was the case in this silent trek; other than the occasional warning for Fuji about a stray rock or some uneven ground, they never so much as breathed a word to each other.

Xion wasn't sure what to make of Fuji. Her first impression of him was… well, based on the rude awakening he gave them at the inn. She had been half-asleep then, but she could still hear how unreasonable he sounded at the door. Coupled with her irritable temper from exhaustion, the demoness was more than ready to let him bleed out on the fray before stepping in.

After hearing his side of the story, she still didn't like him much, albeit not as intense as her initial meeting. Sure, his family got slaughtered by demons, but isn't the backstory of every swordsman in the Corps some form of sob story? Either they were the sole survivor of a demon attack, or they had nowhere else better to go. That still didn't justify Fuji's asshole attitude towards Sora before he wised up and stopped his hostile act.

"Um…" muttered Fuji from behind. "You know…"

"Yes?" prompted Xion, whipping her head towards Fuji, her eyes glowing in the dark like twin beacons.

"You're strangely lucid for a demon," he finished. "For a _starved_ one, that is."

"Where in the world did you get the idea I'm starving?" she demanded.

"You've been travelling with your brother as a demon slayer since you two joined the Corps, right?" clarified Fuji, speeding up his pace just a tad. Xion nodded affirmatively. "Then it would mean you don't have a history of attacking humans."

"Your point…?" hissed Xion through clenched teeth, a vein bulging out from her forehead. "If you don't explain yourself right this instance, I'll be willing to make you an exception."

"Jeez, chill out, hothead!" the older teen reprimanded lightly. "What I'm saying is that I find it surprising that you don't lash out, even though you probably hadn't even a single sip of human blood since your transformation. Most demons would have gone insane from hunger if they were in your shoes."

"Hmph," she sniffed, deciding to let him off the hook. "I sustain myself by sleeping and eating _human food._ "

Fuji did a double-take upon hearing Xion's declaration. "Come again?"

"I don't need human flesh and blood. Not even a drop," emphasised Xion, tugging irritably on her end of the bandanna leash. "The downside is that I need to eat meat. Lots of it. I'm still a demon. Just that I'm more 'human with demonic characteristics' than 'mindless man-eating monster'. Catch my drift?"

"Think so," replied Fuji, shuffling along like a brain-dead zombie. They passed by a crossroad, ignoring it completely. "What abo-oof!"

The older teen grunted as something collided against him. Alert, Xion spun on the spot, holding her katana in a stance, only to relax when she realised who Fuji had bumped into.

"Sora!" cried Xion, staring at the brunet who was knocked to the ground.

Hastily undoing the knot on her wrist, she ran over to Sora, trying to help him rise to his feet. He did not budge, and he did not make a sound. Alarm surged within her; why was he so immobile? Last she checked, he was, and still is, awake. Not to mention he was walking and talking just fine, moments ago! What had happened to him in their brief period of separation?

"What's wrong with him?" hissed Fuji, but his tone wasn't hostile. He peered at the immobile Sora with genuine curiosity and concern. "Why isn't he moving?"

"Isn't it obvious?" laughed a familiar voice, his words as slick as lubricating oil.

Bright light enveloped the trio, washing their vision into a void of pure white. As quickly as it appeared, the whiteness receded, leaving them in a spacious room reminiscent of an arena in the Coliseum. Just like everywhere else in the lightless labyrinth, the arena was clad in darkness, purposefully made so that only non-humans could navigate through it. Demons, to be specific.

Dull stampings echoed ominously through the room. Narrowing her eyes, Xion glared at the demon entering the opposite side of the field. To be specific, she could only see his hulking silhouette, but it was still better than nothing.

"What. Did you. Do?" growled Xion, willing her claws to sharpen into razor tips.

"Doing us a favour," he drawled, languidly picking out the dirt that had accumulated on one claw. "If we fought there, not only is there not enough room, the entire structure would collapse on us. You and I, we could shrug that off easily. Them?"

He gestured to the two humans - one stumbling in disorientation and the other sitting lifelessly on his knees - scrunching his face up into a haughty grimace.

"Not so much. Although it wouldn't make a difference to me."

"Explain," she commanded, pointing her sword threateningly at the demon. "You demons would do anything to get an edge in the field."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he snapped, demonic eyes blazing a phosphorus blue that revealed cat-slit pupils. "Like it or not, you're one of us. Don't speak as if you're above us."

Xion replied with a stiff "Hmph!"

"Fine, seeing as your patience runs thin," sighed their opponent. "I did it just because I can. It's boring if I keep raking in easy wins. But…"

He smirked. "Either way, I'll still win, no matter how many handicaps I give myself. At least it'll make me work up a sweat."

"You arrogant bastard!" roared Fuji, a metallic ring resounding at the swift unsheathing of one of his katanas. "What did you do to him?"

Xion noted that the nichirin blade was a different one than the one he used before. Unlike the previous one, this one had a circular handguard with four indents, and the kanji for 'destroy evil demons' engraved at the base of the blade. It had a similar style to the nichirin blade Giyuu used nearly two years ago; she should know, he nearly stabbed her with it.

"Him? The one with the weird earrings?" asked the demon. "All I did was cut off his motor nerves with my Blood Demon Art. Nothing more, nothing less. He pisses me off, with how bright his aura is. Just like the accursed sun."

"Of course a being of darkness would despise a warrior of light," muttered Xion, gripping her hilt tighter. "That's what you all are: halfways!"

The demon narrowed his eyes. "Bold words, for a weak demon like you. Why haven't you consumed even a sip of human blood?"

"That's it!" roared Xion, lunging towards the demon, her arm drawn back.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Second Form: Water Wheel!_

She launched herself into the air, tucking herself into a front flip, her katana poised for a circular slash that phased through the silhouette. Yet, he remained unfazed by the strike. Chuckling sinisterly, he batted the shocked demoness away with a flourish of his arm, sending her flying across the battlefield. Unfortunate for him, Xion quickly recovered from the backlash and landed back on her feet, skidding a few paces back from the momentum.

"What the…" gasped Xion, gawking at the shadow with confusion. "How can he hit me if he's intangible?"

"Don't forget, you insolent brats," snarled the demon. "You're fighting me on _my_ turf!"

"So what?" retorted Fuji, taking his place beside Xion and assuming his stance. "That doesn't make you invincible."

"Oh, ho!" bellowed the demon. "You better think again! Blizzard!"

Xion's eyes widened. _What did he say again?!_

Multiple beams of icy energy left the demon, sailing through the air in globes of glowing blue beams that rapidly closed the distance between them. On reflex, the two slayers dodged the missiles of ice, only for them to return with a vengeance, and at twice the speed they initially were travelling at. Cursing underneath her breath, Xion planted a foot into the ground, preparing for a counter against the homing attacks.

_Total Concentration Breathing, Breath of Water, Third Form: Flowing Dance!_

Energised by the breathing technique, Xion gracefully weaved between the projectiles, neutralising them with a seemingly effortless swing of her blade. Fuji seemed to be holding up well on his own, dashing straight into the projectiles and obliterating them upon collision, swerving at impossibly sharp angles to intercept the ones closest to him. When no more of those ice attacks remained, she glared at the culprit.

"Where did you learn this?" she interrogated, her voice dropping into dangerous levels. "This is no Blood Demon Art."

"Why should I tell you?" spat the silhouette demon. "This, _this,_ is what sets me on a different level from the rest. Even the Twelve Demon Moons! With this, and after I kill you all, there's no way he wouldn't reconsider his decision of disqualifying me as a prime candidate!"

"Twelve Demon Moons?" repeated Fuji, tilting his head in curiosity.

"You ignorant buffoon!" he scolded, jabbing a furious finger at Fuji. "They're _his_ direct servants, and the twelve of _the_ strongest demons to ever walk the earth! Becoming one of them is like a dream come true for us demons!"

"Muzan, Muzan, Muzan," murmured Xion, disgust oozing from her voice. "I'll never understand what is so great about that abomination. He's a vessel of the foulest darkness I've ever seen since _him!"_

The shadow glowered menacingly. "I'll make you rue the moment you spout those sacrilegious words!"

"Make me, then!" she snarled back, brandishing her silvery gold katana furiously. "So what if you have magic on your side?!"

"Xion! Don't provoke him! Are you out of your mind?!" protested Fuji.

Too late to turn back now. Roaring back a challenge, the shadow raced across the battlefield, closing the distance at an alarmingly swift rate. Fuji let out a noise in frustration, shoving Xion aside and taking on a stance that bore a remarkable similarity to a runner about to sprint in a race.

"Total Concentration, Light Breathing, First Form: Event Horizon!" bellowed Fuji, sprinting towards him with a speed that outclassed the shadow's.

 _Event Horizon?,_ blanched Xion, watching Fuji taking the demon head-on with reckless abandon. _Isn't that…_

Roaring a furious battle-cry, the blue-haired slayer pulled out his second katana mid-sprint, unleashing a multitude of ruthless acrobatic strikes onto the shadow, both blades resembling sabres of light that left afterimages with how blindingly fast it was being wielded. As a finisher, he planted a vicious kick onto the demon's torso, using him as a springboard to do a backflip, before hurling both nichirin blades towards his target like it were a boomerang.

"Strike Raid!" recognised Xion, covering her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. "How…?"

The demon, like before, didn't seem to be affected by Fuji's merciless attacks. Xion noticed their opponent's shifts in his stance, showing that he was about to throw a counterattack. And with Fuji's current position, he wouldn't be able to defend himself.

Without thinking, she ran, with as much speed she could generate within short notice. Even with her enhanced physical capabilities, there was no way she could reach him in time, with the sheer distance placed between them. Despite it all, she forced her body to push itself beyond its limits, driven by an intense single-minded desire to help.

 _Come on, come on, come on!,_ she chanted in her mind, gritting her teeth in pure focus.

Xion blinked. Something enveloped her, quickly receding as soon as it covered her entirely. When she reopened them, she was overhead the two figures, right at the prime position to intercept the retaliating blow. At the last minute, no forms would be able to exact their full potential, but anything would suffice as a block.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin!_

Bringing down her sword, the blade clashed against a clawed hand, producing thunderous sonic booms that blew the flabbergasted slayer away from them. The demon gaped at Xion, meeting her furious glare with a shocked gaze, only for it to morph into grudging admiration.

"So, you teleported here?" he huffed, struggling to bear with Xion's strength behind her blade. "Impressive. But not as impressive as this! Blood Demon Art: Strings of the Puppet!"

The demon swatted her away, thrusting a clawed hand at Fuji. Golden threads shot out from his hands, wrapping and embedding themselves at the slayer's flesh. He let out pained screams as more threads pierced into his skin, thrashing wildly against his bondage, until all of his strength deserted him when the last string pricked through his chest at where his heart was. Horrified, the demoness whipped towards the shadow. The latter chuckled at her reaction, shifting a sadistic glance towards the younger demoness.

"This is only the beginning," he announced with a maniacal guffaw. Her expression intensified into terror. "Watch this!"

"Kill her!" ordered the demon, voice petering off with a maniacal touch. "Do your worse!"

Ethereal strings faded, letting the inert body fall to the ground. In a blink, Fuji vanished from sight. What happened next was so fast that if Xion weren't a demon, she would surely have fallen to his inhuman speed and agility. Her instincts blaring at her, she swerved to the side, barely avoiding the two katanas that slammed earthwards at her previous position. Fat beads of perspiration clung onto her skin.

 _When did he…?,_ she spluttered, enacting a desperate counter slash. Fuji dodged it with a backflip, landing both feet onto her blade.

"Total Concentration, Light Breathing, Final Form," he murmured. Xion's eyes widened.

Guided by reflex, she brought her sword earthward, trying her damndest to interrupt the breath-form. In her peripheral vision, Fuji leapt back, freeing her blade from his weight. He skidded back some paces away, only to rapidly recover the blow with a berserk dash like a provoked bull in a bullfighting ring, his arms lowered in a familiarly dangerous position.

"Last Arcana!"

_Oh, hell no._

Xion bounded backwards, quickly assuming a defensive stance. Calling forth every single iota of her concentration, she parried, intercepted, evaded, _blocked,_ wincing whenever an attack tore through her flimsy defence that she, by some miracle, managed to dodge at the last second. As a finale, the unwilling pawn slammed the butts of both his katanas into the demoness' exposed torso, moving too quickly for her to even register his movements, sending her reeling across the room.

Pain erupted from every inch of her body as she collided into a wall. She screamed, unable to bear with the agony, slumping into a trembling heap on the ground. Some distance away, her weapon clattered onto the ground, yet Xion could not bear to even spare a glance at it, too preoccupied with the excruciating sensation clouding her mind.

Dread filled her being at the whistle of something, _someone,_ bolting towards her with the unmistakable intent to kill.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tucked herself into a ball, clutching at her still throbbing stomach, letting the pure desire of being anywhere but _here_ overtake her. Sickening tendrils engulfed her in a protective embrace, with the deafening roar of blood rushing into her ears drowning out the surroundings, before they slouched away, their job done. Opening a fraction of an eye, she found the still catatonic Sora by her side, followed by sharp skidding noises not unlike a vehicle swerving suddenly at a breakneck speed.

"Sora!" pleaded Xion. "Please! Snap out of it! We need you!"

No response. The teen stared blankly ahead, as if uncertain on his sense of reality.

A startled grunt, and she raised her nichirin blade, just as a foreign sword clashed against hers, sparks flying off from where the edges made contact. Boisterous guffaws rang throughout the room.

"Halt, my puppet," called the demon. Fuji yielded, relaxing his battle stance, letting Xion's katana hit the ground with an inelegant thud.

"You're more pathetic than I thought," scoffed the shadow, his silhouette fizzling in and out of focus. "All three of you. And you think you stand a chance against me?"

Xion remained silent, her breathing laboured and drawn out. Glowing indigo eyes glared back in defiance.

"Ah, playing the silent game, are we?" he taunted. "Well. For your impertinence, I'll make you watch."

"Puppet! Kill the boy!"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" roared Xion, as the last of her sapience seeped away to pure rage, and primal instinct reared their ugly head.

She caught both of Fuji's swords, just as they moved to lop off Sora's head. The edges embedded painfully into her flesh, blood dripping down her hands, yet she did not acknowledge her pain. With a snarl, she dislodged one sword from Fuji's grip, wrapping a hand around the blade like a python to its prey, brutally crushing the metal with a vengeful clench of her fist.

The next thing the feral demoness knew, a katana impaled through her torso, dying her uniform with blood. She shrieked, a shrill shriek of pain that reverberated eerily in the darkened arena, gurgling incoherently when he pulled the blade out. The rest of her energy spent, she collapsed onto the ground, blood gushing out in sporadic intervals. With a blank countenance, Fuji raised his blade, ready to strike down the obstacle that prevented him from executing his orders.

The whoosh of a blade swung downwards. Countered by a defiant metallic ring of steel clashing against steel. A strained grunt that morphed into a roar, followed by crashes to the ground.

A pair of luminescent sky-blue eyes glared with an intensity that could petrify the worst of monsters, their ethereal glow thrumming with untapped power. Fiery golden aura blazed to life, releasing fierce torrents of heatwaves into the vicinity.

"Hands off. Or you'll regret it," spat Sora, his voice uncharacteristically commanding.

"Impossible!" blurted the demon, reeling back in shock. "How did you break free from my hold?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he retorted tersely.

* * *

Sora opened his eyes, surprised to see that his mobility had returned. He was even more astonished to find himself not in the stinky underground tunnels, but rather in the Station of Awakening.

There, he hovered, his flickering golden aura illuminating pathetically through the thick shadows. No stained glass platform to stand on. Just the looming silence, and the ominous darkness that made the metaphysical manifestation of his subconscious. Mixed emotions consumed his every thought: why was he here? What happened to the others? Was he… god, how he very much despised that word, dead?

He fought the urge to shudder. No way he could die, just like that! He hadn't even found the others yet, much less made the most out of his second chance at life.

Light pooled beneath his feet, the shadows peeling away into the silhouettes of scattering doves to reveal the platform that Sora had grown familiar with. Upon its unveiling, the effects of gravity resumed, pulling the airborne boy down onto the glass surface with a dull 'thunk!' with the touchdown of his feet.

Still disoriented, he carefully studied his new surroundings. The first to catch his eye was the illustrations on the stained glass. They had changed little since the last time he saw them, with only one notable difference. Where his hand had been empty earlier, there was now a blurred outline of a weapon firmly in his grasp. It was impossible to identify the weapon exactly, other than it resembled a sword… rod? Whatever it was, it didn't look all too practical in a life-and-death duel.

Sora glanced up. Over the centre of the circular platform, a golden ball of light hovered, thrumming with untapped power. For some unknown reason, he felt a pull towards it, as if the light had some magnetic quality that compelled him to approach it. Without realising it, he shuffled towards it, mesmerised by the enchanting glow of the mystical globe of energy. Just as he was about to touch the luminous orb, a voice shook him out of his hypnotic reverie.

_Be warned, scion of the Key. Before you lies a choice. You may claim it, or abandon it. However, once you have passed your verdict, you cannot regret your decision._

His hand froze mid-air, craning his head upwards to where the voice seemed to originate from. "So what would happen if I take the orb?"

_Your power will return to you. You and your comrades shall embark on an endless path riddled with pain. However, the fates of your companions will be in your hands. One wrong move, and they will be the ones to suffer. Commit too many mistakes, and you may never see them again._

"And if I don't?" questioned Sora, drawing back his arm fearfully.

_Your memories of the past will gradually fade away, and you shall receive the peace that you always wished for. You shall leave this life behind, and someone else will fight in your stead. Same goes for your companion; she will forget herself, and return to who she has become prior to your return. What will it be, then? The power to defy fate at the expense of your companions, or eternal peace only for your ancient legacy to descend into oblivion?_

Sora chewed on his bottom lip, facing a terrible dilemma that had presented before him. True, he was extremely tired of fighting, but he wasn't so selfish as to let someone fight his battles! Not to mention the cruelty that rejecting the orb entails for Xion; not only would she lose a friend and sibling, she would also lose her sense of self. If he took the orb, then he could resume his quest, yet the drawbacks were steep, hinting at the glaring possibility of a repeat of past events. That wouldn't do; Sora didn't want an ephemeral reunion that ends with yet another painful separation. He had enough of those fleeting promises that he could not keep, all because of some cruel circumstances.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side and crossing his arms over his chest, as he had always done whenever he was deep in thought. When he opened his eyes, the scenery had changed.

 _It seems you are in need of guidance,_ he heard the entity sigh _. Very well, I shall grant you some voices._

No longer was he in the dark void of the Station of Awakening; he now stood at a riverbank filled with red spider lilies. The place was breathtakingly beautiful, with the greenest grass and the clearest water running through a happily gurgling brook. Light spilt in from a cloudless blue sky, but it was not glaring to the eye. A soft breeze picked up, gently caressing at Sora's face like how his mother would whenever he had a nightmare.

"Tanjiro!"

Sora felt himself stiffen, not daring to speak to the owner of the voice. The last time he'd seen her, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, her normally twinkling lilac eyes dulling with death.

"Oh, oh! Look, it's nii-san!" cried a boy with a buzzcut, pointing gaily at Sora on the opposite shore. His burgundy eyes glowed bright with life, unlike their final meeting. "Takeo! Hanako! Rokuta! Otou-san! Tanjiro-niisan is here! Look at his uniform!"

"Tanjiro!" called Kie once more, this time more urgently. "Please! Go back! Don't stay here any longer."

"Mother…" breathed Sora, staring at Kie with eyes filled with pure emotion. He shook his head. "I'm not dying. Not now. I still have a lot to do."

"Nii-san!" chorused the rest of his younger siblings, each of them hurrying over to the shore, clambering over each other to get a closer look.

"Wow! You look so cool in that uniform," gushed Hanako, a wide smile splitting her face. Rokuta babbled excitedly, as he had not learned to speak in full sentences yet.

"I want one too," whined Shigeru, looking at Sora's attire enviously.

"Nii-san! What are you doing here?" inquired Takeo, gaping at him in shock. "You can't stay here. Turn back!"

"Not yet," declared Sora, clenching his fists. "I… I want to tell you all something."

"Need some help?" chuckled a gruff voice. Sora perked, recognising the owner of the voice. His jaw fell to the ground, amazed.

"As far as I remember, he was never the best at explanations," giggled a ravenette, skipping childishly into view. "Take his silence as a yes."

"Sora! Long time no see," shouted Yuffie, waving enthusiastically at him, her feet dangerously perching over the edge on her side. She wore the same attire as the last time he visited Radiant Garden, save for some minor details. "You've changed a lot since we last saw each other, hasn't it?"

"Don't yell," admonished Leon, bopping the top of the ninja's head lightly. "He can hear us just fine."

"Sora? You've got the wrong person," said Takeo, shooting the duo an odd glance. "He's our older brother, Tanjiro. Not this Sora person you called him."

"Um…" mumbled Sora, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "Actually, Takeo, they're not wrong. I am Sora."

"What in the world are you talking about?" asked Kie, confusion reflected in her countenance.

"I'm sorry to say this, but…" he trailed, averting his gaze from them out of guilt. "Tanjiro was long gone. He left the living on his fifth winter."

The woman swooned, but was caught in time by Takeo and Hanako. Weakly, she whispered a response, "What…?"

"I took his place. Accidentally," added Sora, his voice gradually getting softer. "I'm sorry. I didn't want this to happen."

"Then, if you're not nii-san, then who…" muttered Takeo, reeling from the bombshell. "Who have we depended on our entire lives, since otou-san's death?"

"He said it himself, didn't he?" chirped Yuffie. "He's Sora. Keyblade Wielder extraordinaire, saviour of the worlds and a Guardian of Light."

"I didn't even say anything else other than my name!" objected Sora. "Don't give them a bigger headache than they already have. And besides, you can omit the 'Keyblade Wielding' part. I can't use one anymore."

"Guardians? You mean the Ten Ancient Guardians?" piped Shigeru, his eyes sparkling with recognition. "You're saying nii-san's a Guardian?!"

"He's not our brother," snapped Takeo harshly. Sora winced at that, as though it had physically hurt him. "Just a no-good imposter who lied to us our entire lives!"

"That's harsh, Takeo!" reproached Hanako, hands on her hips and glaring at the second eldest son. "Even if he isn't actually our nii-san, he was a wonderful brother to all of us. Isn't that right, kaa-san?"

"Your sister's right, Takeo," agreed Kie, carefully balancing her back onto his feet. "Sora may not have told us the truth, but he didn't do it out of malice. I am willing to forgive him for his deception, as upset as I am with his confession."

"I'm sorry!" shouted Sora, bowing deeply in apology. Regretful tears pricked at his eyes. "I don't mean to upset you so much. If I had known the price to pay to escape incarceration was his life, I would have gladly stayed in my prison. I swear!"

In the background, Yuffie stood on tiptoes, leaning over to Leon's ear. "Should I tell him?"

"Do it when he joins us here for real," grunted Leon, making sure that only Yuffie heard him. "He can't afford to get distracted."

"Oh, pooh," pouted Yuffie, feigning offence at the gunblade wielder's response.

"That's alright, we forgive you," Kie accepted Sora's heartfelt apology graciously. "There was no way you could have known. Besides, we will not stay separated for long. Reassure yourself with this."

"Enough of this. So, are you really a Guardian?" asked Shigeru excitedly, his body teetering dangerously over the edge.

"If you mean a Guardian of Light, then yes," replied Sora, hesitantly.

"Cool!" The younger siblings' eyes were literally sparkling with awe. Takeo huffed, sullenly turning his head away.

"Speaking of which," he diverted, eager to get his main question out of his chest. "I wanted to ask you for your opinion."

"What is it?" queried Leon, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"I was given a choice," explained Sora. "I could reclaim my power, or leave it."

"Well, take it back!" asserted Yuffie, looking at Sora as if he had spouted something dumb. "That's a no brainer."

"But if I do, you all will suffer if I mess up. Kick up a bigger mess, and I'll never see you guys again," finished the teen. "I don't want that. I didn't want to be released from imprisonment, only to realise that I can never reunite with those I care about."

"You're stupid," blurted Takeo suddenly, prompting everyone in the vicinity to shoot surprised stares at him. "You're really, really stupid."

"Takeo!" scolded Kie.

"What, kaa-san? It's true!" the boy met everyone's eyes with an equally astonished look. "He's letting his fear of something that may never happen hold him back! If that isn't stupidity, then I don't know what is."

"Crudely worded, but the boy has a point," conceded Leon. "Sora. Since when have you let a setback pull you back from what you needed to do?"

"We all have faith that you'll succeed," the Wutaian ninja followed up with an encouraging grin. "Along with the rest of the Guardians. Don't worry about messing up, 'cause we know you'll find some way to get around it, somehow."

"I agree with these fine warriors," piped another voice. A wiry man with burgundy hair shuffled up to the front, wearing a tired but understanding smile on his lips. "Never let your fear hold you back, my son. Do what you need to. I know you'll one day find yourself back to us."

"You… you want me to take it?" whispered Sora, stunned. "Even with the risks?"

Tanjuro smiled sagely. "Yes. Since your birth, I had sensed something special within you. At first, I wasn't sure what it was. Now, I could see it clearly; you were meant to fulfil a grand role. Don't be afraid, and press on. We will always be with you, through thick and thin."

Sora's throat constricted with emotion, his vision blurring up. A swift swipe of his arm across his eyes, he nodded, a resolute smile on his face. "I understand. Thank you, father."

"Good luck, Sora!" cheered Yuffie, flashing the boy a thumbs up. "We'll be cheering for you! Beat up some baddies for me, won't ya?"

"Same here," muttered Leon, smirking knowingly at Sora. "Don't come back too banged up, alright?"

The rest of his 'council' voiced similar encouragements. With that, Sora found that he had come to a verdict, a decision that he knows that he will not regret. The river scenery blanked out, and before he knew it, he found himself back in front of the ethereal orb. He stared at it, composing the emotions that ran rampant inside of him.

_So, have you decided?_

"Yes," answered Sora confidently, reaching out to take the orb.

As soon as his fingers wrapped around it, the orb melted into his palm, sending comforting pulses of warmth coursing through his veins. The next thing Sora knew, everything exploded, a strange sensation spreading through his system, as though a part of him he never knew he lost returned to him, completing him. All of his exhaustion melted away, reinvigorating him like someone had injected a dose of caffeine into him.

_Good luck, our Guardian. May your heart always be your guiding key._

Everything faded to black, and Sora nearly tasted dirt. He flailed, breaking his fall just in time to avoid Eskimo kissing the ground. Two realisations dawned upon him: one, he was back at the underground labyrinth. Two, he could move his body.

White-hot rage blazed to life when Xion's pained screams penetrated the already tense atmosphere. In a flash, Sora unsheathed his nichirin blade, sprinting over to where he had heard the screams like a furious firebolt. He swung his blade upwards, smirking triumphantly when he saw sparks flying from where their blades clashed. Oh, what he would give to let his rage rampage freely like wildfire, to let them know pain for daring to hurt his friends.

A spike of his body temperature, giving Sora the necessary strength to throw his mysterious adversary off balance. Crashes resounded satisfyingly, both from the clang of a sword hitting the ground and the swordsman collapsing.

"Hands off. Or you'll regret it," spat Sora, his voice uncharacteristically commanding.

_So this is what Roxas felt when he showed up in the Keyblade Graveyard…_

"Impossible!" blurted the demon, reeling back in shock. "How did you break free from my hold?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he retorted tersely.

Something rammed into Sora's torso, eliciting a grunt from him. Unlike before, the wind was not knocked out of his lungs, but something else did. The distinct sound of a scroll falling echoed within a stunned silence, a fiery aura flaring to life around it as it touched the ground.

"You have it too!" yelled the shadow demon, flabbergasted.

Before the demon could snatch it, Xion seized it, falling back behind Sora. She unfurled it, gasping in shock when she saw the contents.

"Sora!" cried Xion, jabbing a finger at the passage. Gibberish no longer filled the parchment. Instead, intelligible words occupied where the nonsensical symbols once were, emitting a bright orange glow like a blazing inferno's. "The passage! It's been decoded!"

She showed the passage to Sora. As if driven by an unknown force - instinct, perhaps, he chanted the deciphered passage underneath his breath with a fervour. Eyes furiously ran over the lines of text, his soul rapidly absorbing the wisdom of the words and etching them deep into his subconscious, committing them to memory.

_I am one of the esteemed Ten who safeguards the realms. As I have read and deciphered the laws of nature, I shall now take command of the origin of all power. Bend the fury of the cosmos to my righteous will: annihilate the fiends who dare desecrate this sacred plane with the roars of the heavenly flames borne from my noble heart._

"Fire!" they bellowed in unison, thrusting an arm towards the demon.

Magnificent inferno of blazes erupted from the ground, releasing awe-inspiring shockwaves of pure arcana and flames to their surroundings in the form of an explosion. At that moment, everything went _white,_ accompanied by the rumbles of the earth trembling and the inhuman screeches of the shadow demon. Sometime after, the grating screeches halted, letting the booms take over the void that manifested inside their minds. Their world shook, yet they remained tranquil like a boat drifting down a slow current, calmly waiting for the chaos to subside.

The aftereffects of the newly unlocked spell faded away, revealing the dark woods that surrounded the cave.

"Wow, that was Fire?" laughed Xion, still elated from the rush of mana. "I don't remember it being this powerful!"

"Neither do I," whispered Sora, glancing at the trembling heaps. "I think it has something to do with unlocking it for the first time since… I don't know, forever?"

He approached one of the bodies, carefully flipping him over into a supine position. Fuji groaned, clutching his head, swaying as he pushed himself up. "What happened? I feel like I've been run over by ten horse carts…"

"You got mind-controlled by the demon," explained Xion, before assuming a sheepish countenance. "And we might have accidentally exposed you to the blast. Whoops."

"Oh, right!" the blue-haired boy scrambled to his feet, gawking at them in amazement. "That was Fire, wasn't it?! Since when was a Fire spell this powerful!"

"Yeah," Sora murmured absent-mindedly. A realisation hit him, prompting him to whip his gaze towards Fuji in surprise. "Wait, how did you know it was magic?"

"I'm…" trailed Fuji, and an apparition superimposed over him. A spectre of a blond boy with his hair styled in windswept spikes, wearing a white shirt over a black vest, a silver zipper styled in a spiked cross dangling over his chest. "I'm Roxas. Don't you recognise me?"

Both siblings gawked at him, stunned. Awkward silence dragged out between them, before the two burst into tears, Xion being the first to give a vocal reaction.

"Roxas!" cried Xion, tackling the newly awakened reincarnate into a bear hug. "You're back!"

"Ugh, Xion… can't breathe," wheezed Roxas, his spectre fading away. Instead of having pure blue locks, his hair now tipped with golden blond. The exact same shade as his previous incarnation.

The demoness released her hold on him, grinning apologetically. "Sorry. I missed you, you know?"

"Yeah," he smiled, turning his gaze towards Sora. "Look who's back, huh?"

"Hey man," Sora returned the smile, jubilant tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. "Welcome back."

Roxas walked towards Sora, still wearing his smile. The latter chuckled nervously at the sudden whiff of danger. Just as he was about to make a run for it, Roxas caught him at the arm, ruthlessly pulling him back into range and delivered a brutal karate chop over the latter's head. The brunet yelped, both hands covering his aching head protectively, staring at him with wide eyes as if he had just killed his dog.

"That's for all the trouble you put us through," said Roxas, smiling pleasantly through an eye-twitch. "I hope it hurts like hell, you reckless bastard."

"Yes, yes, it hurts!" Sora responded hurriedly, nodding furiously.

Roxas barked out a laugh in amusement, reaching over to give Sora a shoulder pat. "That said and done, it's good to see you again."

"Damn it," growled another voice, making the trio snap their heads at the severely weakened demon. "How did they dispel my flawless illusions…?"

"Roxas, you do the honours," gestured Sora with a knowing smirk, pointing towards the demon with his chin.

"Gladly," he grinned back, bending down to pick up his fallen nichirin blade. "Let me show you a classic move, for old times' sake."

"Total Concentration, Light Breathing, Third Form," announced Roxas, lowering himself into a half-squat. "Duel Stance."

At the snap of a finger, he vanished, reappearing behind the demon with his sword poised in a way that signified the end of an attack. The abomination froze in horror at the sudden movement, before he broke out into fits of laughter, thinking it to be a false alarm.

"You idiot!" crowed the demon. "You missed, and you didn't know it?"

"The End," finished Roxas with a sinister smirk.

Smug cackles died out into pained gurgles, black blood spurting out from his headless neck in copious volumes. The head hit the ground with a sickening thud, his decapitating remains - including the head - disintegrating into bits of ash. With the last of the demon crumbling away, the overwhelming stench subsided, finally allowing Sora's sensitive nose some reprieve. He exhaled in relief as he pulled the bandanna off his face, handing it back to its owner.

"Amazing!" Xion clapped enthusiastically. "You made your signature Reaction Command into a Breath Form!"

"Really a classic," agreed Sora, beaming widely like the Cheshire Cat.

"I try," replied Roxas. He let out a curious noise when he spotted something at where the demon once was. "What is this?"

"What's what?" asked Sora.

The newly awakened reincarnate held up a yellowed scroll, waving it emphatically at them. "I think the demon dropped this."

Intrigued, both siblings approached Roxas, trying to get a closer look at the dropped item. It was similar to the scroll they had, except the parchment had a bluish tint to it. Xion extended out an arm towards Roxas.

"Can I see it?" she requested. The older teen gladly obliged, pressing the material into her open palm.

She unrolled the scroll, with the two boys peeking over her shoulder. Sora held out an open palm over her head, manifesting a fireball at his fingertips. Warm light shone onto the scroll. The passage was written in the gibberish-like symbols similar to the Fire Scroll, runes that bore vague likenesses to the characters of the language commonly used in their homeland. Only two comprehensible illustrations at the right: the kanji '氷' written in neat calligraphy at the top right corner and an intricate sketch of a snowflake below it.

"So this is how that demon learned Blizzard," marvelled Xion, with a look of understanding dawned upon her.

"If the scroll Oyakata gave us allows us to learn Fire," stated Sora, voicing his train of thoughts aloud. "Then does this one teach us Blizzard?"

"Most likely," agreed Roxas, wearing a pensive expression. "That demon used it, after all."

"Do you want to keep it?" asked Sora, turning a solemn gaze towards him. "You did the finishing blow, so by right you get to claim it."

"Nah, you two have it," replied the older teen. Upon noticing Sora's unconvinced countenance, he sighed and added, "If it bothers you so much, we can exchange scrolls. I haven't learned Fire yet, so it's fair to say that I get the Fire Scroll and you two keep Blizzard."

The brunet exchanged glances with Xion, before the latter nodded. "Fair enough," she announced.

Finally coming to a consensus, Sora handed the Fire Scroll to Roxas, tucking the recently acquired Blizzard into his haori.

Suddenly, Roxas scoured the ground, turning up random overgrown plants and rocks with an almost panicked manner. "Where is my other katana?"

"Err," Xion tapped her two index fingers together. "I broke it…"

"What?!" Roxas did a double-take.

Both siblings sweatdropped. Sora turned to Xion. _"Did you really break it?"_

" _With my bare hands,"_ affirmed Xion with a tentative nod. _"The demon was controlling him, and he was about to kill you. I snapped, and the next thing I knew, the sword snapped."_

"Even worse!" screamed Roxas, running his hands through his hair. "Just my luck that I get a poor quality weapon that shatters at someone's bare hands."

"How did you hear that!" they yelled in unison.

"What do you mean?" retorted Roxas. "Didn't you say that loud and clear?"

"No, we didn't," frowned Xion.

"It was a telepathic conversation, Roxas," explained Sora, crossing his arms.

"You know what?" Roxas threw his hands into the air in mock defeat. "I'm not even going to question it. That's more than enough weirdness for one night."

The night sky lightened up. Xion tried, and failed, to stifle her terrified screams. Without a word, Sora unshouldered his box, placing it at the ground with the door open. The demoness shrunk herself into her child form, hastily squeezing herself back and shutting the door. As per routine, he went to retrieve Xion's katana (somehow ending up in a bush), sheathing it back into its scabbard before slinging the box over his shoulders.

That done, Sora sheathed his own weapon, just as the first light of dawn approached. Caws from their Kasugai Crows broke the peaceful silence of the early morning.

"Caw! Tanjiro, Nezuko! Head to Asakusa! Investigate a rumour about a demon masquerading as human, caw!" shrieked Matsuemon, perching onto Sora's outstretched arm.

"Got it," nodded Sora. He shot a curious glance at Roxas' assigned corvid partner.

"Alright, alright!" sighed Roxas, closing his eyes in exasperation. "Reiko, I get it. I won't get sidetracked this time."

"You better," scoffed Reiko, the Kasugai Crow. It sounded feminine, so Sora assumed that Roxas' avian partner is a female. "Think about how many people you're jeopardising!"

"Jeez, you're so long-winded," mumbled Roxas, almost at the end of his patience. He perked, noticing Sora's blatant staring. "Oh, Sora. This is Reiko. She's my Kasugai Crow. She's rather talkative, as you can see."

"I've noticed," he replied wryly.

"Anyway, sorry for dragging you out of bed in the middle of the night," apologised Roxas, his hazel eyes flecked with sky blue gleaming sympathetically. "And for being an ass to you. That was uncalled for."

"Accepted," smiled Sora, before frowning at a glaring issue. "About your katana…"

"No worries," he waved off. "I've been looking for an excuse to replace my nichirin blades anyway. Once my mission's done, I'll get my swordsmith to forge me new ones."

"That's good to hear," said Sora. "So, what should I call you in public?"

"Call me Aki," answered Roxas, a small smile on his face. "That's what my siblings used to call me."

"Alright," nodded Sora. "In case you've forgotten, I'm Tanjiro. Xion's called Nezuko. Don't call us by our actual names in public!"

"Fair enough," chuckled the older teen. "Well, be seeing you. Good luck with your mission in Asakusa."

"Likewise, to yours," responded Sora in kind.

Shifting the weight of Xion's box over his shoulder, Sora raised his arm in farewell. Roxas did the same, before the duo went their separate ways, happy and content to be reunited with their comrades.


	10. Toss a Coin to Your Memory Witch

A smile, one of relief and happiness, grazed across elegant lips. "He's here."

"Him?!" spluttered a male voice, lavender-teal eyes betraying shock and indignation. "I say about time! He sure took his time, didn't he? My other self wasn't kidding when he told me that person was a lazy bum. Of all the times he could've shown up, he shows up _now?"_

"It doesn't matter," she replied gently, still wearing her unwavering smile. "What's important is that he's here. That means the tides will finally turn to the Corps' favour."

"I can't argue with that," admitted the male with a disbelieving laugh. "That spiky-haired blockhead… he always does what he does best, doesn't he?"

"True," she giggled in concurrence. "He'll be here soon. Let's prepare for his arrival, shall we?"

"Anything for you," he nodded, a fond smile passing his lips.

* * *

Sora knew that Asakusa is a city, being a prefecture of the country's capital Tokyo. He knew it was going to be bustling with activities; after all, that came with being a city.

What he didn't know was that Asakusa was _teeming_ with colour, light and life, regardless of the time of day. By the time he and Xion had completed their several-day trek to Asakusa, it was already close to midnight. Yet, the city was still chock full of people rushing about their businesses, various noises amalgamating together as chatterings that filled the air, occasionally interrupted by the merry clanging of bells from the tram. Colourful banners advertising a myriad of products and services covered every inch of the buildings, waving proudly whenever the wind picked up.

"Wow," breathed Xion, looking around at the brightly lit surroundings in wide-eyed wonder. "Twilight Town was never this busy, even with the night markets going on!"

"Yeah," whispered Sora, just as awestruck. "It's nothing fancy like San Fransokyo, but… this is another kind of _amazing._ "

"So… how are we going to find the demon?" she asked, shuffling along with the crowd, keeping equal pace with Sora. "With this many people, it'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. A thin golden needle."

"I could try sniffing them out," he suggested, still admiring the shops and night city scenery. "Demons usually reek of rotten eggs, especially if they've eaten countless people. But if they turned recently, it would be more difficult to pick them out."

Xion snickered. "Does it ever occur to you that ever since we got attacked, you've been juggling the role of 'sniffer dog'?"

"Wha- hey!" protested Sora, glaring at her playfully. "Without this 'sniffer dog', nothing would have gotten done. Show some respect!"

"Pssh, fine," she relented, stifling an amused laugh and slapping his shoulder lightly.

They continued to wander the busy streets, sometimes stopping to stare at a shop's neon signboard or to regain their bearings in this maze of a city. Eventually, they retreated to a quiet park some distance away from all the buzzings, too drained out by the overstimulation of their mission site to continue their search for the "demon masquerading as a human", whoever that is.

With a groan, Sora plopped himself on a bench, placing the box by his feet. Xion quickly accompanied him.

"Is it even possible for a demon to hide their scent?" wondered Sora aloud, panting and generally looking like a zombie. "I can't smell even a _hint_ of them!"

"And when you thought you got a lead, it turned out to be something gone rotten in a garbage can," the demoness added with a teasing lilt in her voice, eyes gleaming with mirth.

Sora didn't respond to that quip, staring transfixed into Xion's eyes. He frowned in puzzlement. "Your eyes…"

"What about them?" replied Xion, nervously fidgeting at her seat.

"There're more indigo flecks in them," answered Sora. "And they look more human-like than two years ago."

"Really?" Xion seemed taken aback by his observations. She glanced down at her claw-tipped fingers. "So it wasn't my imagination going wild when I thought I lost some demonic characteristics."

It was Sora's turn to look surprised.

"My claws and fangs as well. I never noticed it until recently," she admitted, giving Sora a full view of her claws on both hands. "See?"

The slayer studied them, eyes narrowed in concentration. Indeed, as she had pointed out, the tips of her claws were more rounded, and shorter might he add. It still could be classified as claws, as it was still sharper and longer than his own fingernails, if only slightly. She then bared her teeth, allowing Sora a clearer look at them. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought the fangs were just some oddly sharp _human_ canines. After a while, he bobbed his head in agreement.

"They do look less sharp than before," agreed Sora. "That's weird. Didn't it used to be sharp all the time?"

"It did," stated Xion. "No matter how many times I tried to wear the claws down, it would always remain in prime condition. I even clawed a boulder in Mt. Sagiri once with more than enough force to shatter fingernails. Nothing happened."

"Wait, what?" he choked, coughing while frantically beating at his chest to get his airways to clear up. When it cleared, Sora drew in a few more breaths before continuing. "You _clawed_ a boulder?"

"I was frustrated, okay?" she exclaimed, pale face now a shade of deep crimson. "Wouldn't recommend it, even if my claws didn't even suffer a single chip."

"I didn't even laugh! More surprised than amused, really," muttered Sora, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Anyway, back to your claws."

Xion closed her eyes, willing her demonic side to manifest. When she reopened them, the irises had morphed into pure cherry blossom pink, a vertical slit bisecting it. In a flash, her claws elongated and sharpened into a deadly point. She bared her teeth in a silent snarl, revealing a full set of sharpened fangs. He stumbled, completely caught off-guard by the unexpected transformation. It was only when she cancelled her feral form did they revert back into its short, blunted state.

"They're sharp only when I go full demon mode now," explained Xion, retracting her hands. "I don't know why or how it happened."

"Beats me," sighed Sora, slumping onto his seat.

Familiar but revolting sulfur wafted into his nose. As though reinvigorated by the lead, Sora bolted off, wearing a fierce expression as he let the scent guide him to its owner. Behind, Xion let out a yelp in surprise, but chased up to him nonetheless. Her face appeared beside him.

"You found them?" she asked urgently, to which she received a quick nod in response.

"Not just any demon," growled Sora, beginning to push through the gaps between the throngs, muttering half-hearted apologies whenever he bumped into someone. " _Him._ "

Xion blanched, eyes widening in astonishment.

Without warning, Sora sped up, leaving a startled Xion behind in the dust. His hand lashed out, seizing a man dressed smartly in a black suit and a white top hat by his wrist. The latter retaliated with a spin of his heels, freeing his captured wrist with a blindingly fast flick and struck the slayer across the cheek. He hissed, reflexively backing away when he felt something thin and sharp cut through his cheek in a clean diagonal line. Something warm and sticky leaked out from the inflicted area, along with a faint metallic scent that he'd come to associate with death.

Plum red eyes glared menacingly into his own, quickly softening into false concern.

"Is something the matter?" the disguised demon asked in a genteel fashion. "You seem quite distressed."

The brunet clenched his teeth into a furious snarl, one hand tightening around the hilt of his nichirin blade.

"Daddy?" a timid voice spoke suddenly. Sora flinched, shock painted across his features when he saw a confused-looking young girl with pigtails in his arms. "Who's this? Why does he look so angry?"

"Y-you…" stammered Sora, eyes darting between Muzan and the young girl.

"Oh dear, what's wrong?" chimed a well-dressed woman. She looked rather young and pleasant looking. "Tsukihiko, dear, do you know this boy?"

"Mommy!" exclaimed the girl happily.

_That woman, and that girl… they're both human! Why?! Don't they know he's a demon? A remorseless monster who consumes people?!_

"No, not at all. Much to my consternation," mused Muzan, his feigned innocence coming out as mocking to Sora. "Perhaps… he has mistaken me for someone else?"

"There's no way I would make that mistake!" shouted Sora, glaring furiously at the disguised demon. "You've committed so many atrocities that I could smell the darkness from you miles away! I would be daft to not recognise that revolting scent."

"Dear, what is he talking about?" murmured the woman, puzzled by Sora's passionate declaration.

Muzan narrowed his eyes, aiming a threatening glare towards Sora. Unbeknownst to the woman and girl who had the misfortune to get tangled with his lies, the demon had swiped at the nape of a passerby's neck, burying his claws into the man's flesh. All while Sora watched, horror mingled with a smidgen of regret washing over his face.

The afflicted man staggered, one hand draped over the back of his neck, bumping into a woman with a pained grunt.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she inquired, staring at the man in concern.

"You bastard!" spat Sora, glowering venomously at Muzan. "I swear, I'll strike you down and make you go through _hell_ , even if it's the last thing I do!"

Without waiting for a response, he rushed past the pretend family, snaking his arm around the victim's neck, yanking him away from the woman just as hideous veins bulge from his temples and his nails elongating into serrated claws. The newly born demon snarled, snapping his fangs and swiping his claws at the horrified woman as he thrashed against Sora's hold. Gritting his teeth, the slayer tightened his grip on him, determined not to allow him to taste his first blood.

"Dear!" shrieked the woman.

"Ma'am! Take care of yourself and run!" ordered Sora, grunting whenever the demon in his grasp thrashed.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Muzan whispering something to his petrified pretend wife, leading them away from the chaos. As much as he wanted to pursue after him, Sora could not leave the demonised man alone. With a yell, he forced his full weight on him, pressing him against the ground.

"Sora!" cried Xion, hurrying into the scene. "What's going on?"

"He got turned!" he yelled, mustering up more strength to keep him pinned.

Comprehension dawned upon Xion. Nodding, she undid the muzzle around her neck, one hand pulling on one end of the string. "Hold his head up."

Sora grunted affirmatively, gripping a fistful of the demon's hair and pulling his head up, holding it in place as he continued to snarl. White foam frothed at his mouth like a rabid animal. With several deft motions, Xion tied the muzzle around the demon's mouth. She had finished securing the knot when two officers barged in, demanding everyone - including Sora - to step aside.

"What is this, a kidnapping attempt?" interrogated one officer. "What's with the muzzle?"

"No, sirs, you don't understand!" proclaimed Sora, his face set in desperation and defiance. "We can't let him kill anyone! He'll go berserk if you pull me off."

"I think we can handle some drunk going crazy," scoffed the other arrogantly. "Step aside, boy. Let the adults handle this."

"No, you don't know what you're dealing with!" pleaded Xion. "Please, don't interfere. We know what we're doing."

"Go home. Girls like you shouldn't be out on the streets so late at night," snapped the first officer.

"Get lost!" ordered the second in agreement, irritation seeping into his voice. "Is it so difficult for you brats to let us do our job in peace?! Come on, boy, up you go!"

"No!" yelled Sora, jerking himself free from the officers' grasp. At that moment, the demon turned its gaze to the back, glowering at the officers.

"Agh! What the-?!" yelped the first officer, taken aback by the demon's black sclera and demonic yellow eyes. "The hell is wrong with his face!"

 _Looks like we came in a few minutes late…_ A male voice echoed in Sora's mind.

 _No matter,_ replied a feminine voice. _This is just a minor setback. We can still accomplish what we've come for._

Saccharine floral scents flooded his senses, followed by surprised outbursts from the officers trying to subdue him. Flowery patterns wafted into sight, drowning out the city landscape with a myriad of brightly coloured blossoms. Alert, both slayers glanced around, anticipating an ambush from anywhere.

"Who's there?" demanded Xion, slitted pupils manifesting.

An apologetic sigh was their response.

"I apologise for coming so late," spoke a refined voice, soft and feminine.

A woman dressed in a dark violet kimono embroidered with floral patterns. Her ebony hair, streaked with platinum blonde at the ends, was pulled back into a neat bun and held in place with a hair ornament. Behind her stood a boy with lavender-teal eyes wearing a white haori over a button-up shirt, his peppermint green hair tipped with black and silver groomed neatly.

Sora's nose twitched as he sniffed the air. These newcomers didn't smell human at all. Rather, their scent was more like Xion's - a sort of bitterness to it like venom, instead of the more common sulphuric smell.

"You're… demons, right?" pointed Sora, looking at the woman's lavender-blue eyes. They looked uncannily familiar to him, for some reason.

"Yes, and a doctor as well," nodded the woman. "We wish to offer assistance."

"But this is no place to discuss an alliance," interrupted the male demon, stepping over to Sora and the demon pinned underneath him. "We'll handle him. Go retrieve your box. I'll be around shortly to escort you two."

"Thank you," grunted Sora, slowly lifting his weight off him to let the demon take over. "Come on, Xion."

She hummed, tagging after Sora as they disappeared back into the park where they had taken a reprieve in.

* * *

"Daddy, you're not coming?"

"Good girl," the fake fatherly smile came easily to Muzan, caressing the cheek of the oblivious human girl. "Daddy's still got some business to take care of. I'll be home before you know it, alright?"

"Dear…" trailed off the woman that he had used to solidify his disguise.

"Don't worry, I'm just going to have a word with the police," he reassured. "Everything will be fine. Go home. I'll return shortly."

With that, he ushered both mother and daughter into the car, the last he saw of them was a disgustingly loving smile from that human woman and a cheerful wave in farewell from her worthless daughter behind the glass pane of the car's window. As soon as they were out of sight, Muzan turned on his heels, walking towards a dark alley down the street he was in, keeping his face hidden in the shadow of the surroundings and his hat.

He halted, standing in the darkest area of the narrow corridor, his figure wreathed sinisterly in shadows. The aura enveloping him intensified, as though empowered by the darkness of the alleyway. Plum red eyes shined with supernatural power and authority, snapping his fingers to summon some of his many subordinates prowling the human-infested place. On cue, two demons - one male and one female - materialised behind him, keeping their eyes on the ground and kneeling reverently behind him.

"What is it you desire, master?" they inquired in unison, their words oozing with obeisance, as he liked it.

"Bring me the head of the demon hunter with hanafuda earrings, and capture his demon companion," whispered Muzan, his voice dangerously low. "Failure is not an option. Understand?"

"Yes, milord," chorused the two demons, making themselves scarce to execute his commands as soon as they gave their apt responses.

Chilly air currents stung at his exposed skin, but he felt nothing from it. He knew that his blood had long since gone cold as the coldest ice, never to return to its former warm state. There, he stood at his spot, brooding over an unknown topic, before it dispelled with the quell of the glow in his demonic eyes. Wordlessly, he made his way to the other end of the alley, his 'business' now completed.

As dignified as he liked to appear, his nose couldn't help but twitch in repulsion when he saw three drunks passing by, hands around each other and cackling madly at some asinine joke cracked by one of the trio. Humans were of no value to him - no more worthy than being a source of sustenance for himself and his servants, and this especially applied for them. Still, he had better things to do than waste his valuable time with these imbeciles.

So, he tried his utmost to ignore them. Until one of them, in his drunken state, bumped into his shoulder. He walked on, stopping only a few steps away from them to mutter an insincere apology to the unreasonable human.

That scum didn't seem to want to go down without picking a fight.

"Hey, wait just a damn minute!" barked the smaller male of the trio, seizing him by the shoulder.

Muzan paused, barely able to rein in the impulse to obliterate these impudent creatures on the spot. "Excuse me, but I'm in a hurry."

"I've got a problem with the fancy duds you're wearing," he sneered, jabbing an agitated finger at his expensive black suit. "I don't like it! And what's with the pale face? You look like you're halfway into the grave, you pompous bas-!"

Sickening cracks interrupted the man's tirade, his skull unceremoniously slammed into the adjacent wall. He slumped to the ground, eyes rolling up to the back of his head and two streaks of red gushing out of his nostrils. Muzan stood, demonic eyes blazing furiously within the shadows as he calmly observed the carnage that he caused.

"Hey!" roared the bald, also the one with the largest build. He stormed towards the demon lord. "What do you think you're doing to my little brother?"

"Yaa-chan's not breathing!" shrieked the female, holding the limp corpse of the fool who dared to cross him to her chest in sheer horror.

_What annoying insects._

As soon as the large male came into close range, the irritated demon whipped his foot upwards, dealing a fatal kick to his groin that simultaneously launched him skywards. Blood spurted all over the dirty corridor, dying the area with unsightly splotches of gruesome red. The broken body fell to the ground at full force with a bloody squelch, limbs and head contorted at unnatural angles as they twitched helplessly. Soon after, the second nuisance fell limp, joining his equally irritating and useless companion.

In a blink of an eye, he had shoved his face towards the cowering woman, forcing her to meet his demonic eyes. Her eyes widened, pressing herself further into the wall in a futile attempt to keep a distance from him.

"Does my face look sickly to you?" hissed Muzan, fury thrumming just beneath the surface of his superficially calm voice. "Is it pale, like I'm about to die?"

She does not respond, too terrified to even formulate a coherent response.

"Oh, no," he chuckled menacingly, relishing the scent of terror she emits. "I am an entirely different creature. A paragon of perfection, you might even say."

Smirking, the demon pressed an index finger at the woman's forehead, the lethally sharp point just barely digging past skin. "Do you know what happens if I bequeath you large amounts of my blood?"

The finger buries itself into flesh, eliciting an agonised scream from the pathetic creature. Her body suddenly broke out into fits of convulsion, as though she had been struck by lightning. His smirk grew into a sadistic grin, he retracted his finger, leaving a gaping hole at her forehead, blood gushing out from the cavity in unstoppable torrents.

"Your pitiful human body cannot withstand the speed of the transformation," he continued, sounding far too nonchalant at the bloody sight. "Your cells will rupture, one by one, until…"

She gave out one last shriek, and her body melted into a pile of mush.

Sarcastic clappings ensued from behind Muzan. The demon swivelled, wondering who had witnessed him stomping out those nuisances. Yet, as composed as he was, he could stop himself from taking a step back in astonishment at the unexpected audience.

It was a man clad fully in black, donning the oddest robes that Muzan had ever seen. He could not see his face, for the darkness of the hood had effectively concealed every aspect of his features. The clothes he wore was what the demon believed the humans called a 'trench coat', except it was made of pure black leather. Silver tassels hung from two silver strands at the bottom of the hood's opening, flanking the sides of an iron-grey zipper that stretched from the robes' neck all the way to the bottom.

"Woo! What a show," remarked the figure casually, walking confidently towards Muzan. "You must think 'wow! I'm powerful; I can do whatever I want!', after all those stunts you just pulled. Am I right, or am I right, huh?"

The progenitor of all demons frowned, partly from genuine confusion and the rest in annoyance. Who does this human think he is, daring to treat him if he was nothing but a petulant child!

"Who are you?" he growled in a deep voice.

"Me? Oh, I'm touched," the black figure swooned dramatically, placing both hands over his heart like a lovesick girl. "You know, you're the first person to ask me that in… forever! Flattering to see someone who cared about plain ol' me."

"Answer the question," demanded Muzan, feeling his already thin patience wearing out.

"Uh, uh! Temper, temper," purred the figure, mischievously wagging a finger at his face. He reared back his head, startled by the brazen act. "Okay, since you're _such_ a killjoy. My name is of no importance. You won't live long to remember, anyway."

He broke out into a fit of mad giggling, as though his last statement had been a hilarious joke.

"Anyway, I've digressed," coughed the figure, pounding his chest with the side of a fist. "I'm just here to dispense some friendly advice: you've made a mistake of letting him live. Wait, scratch that. On second thought, don't kill him."

" _Him?_ " questioned Muzan, realising who the eccentric fellow was referring to. "You mean that demon hunter with the hanafuda earring? The one who inherited _his_ legacy?"

" _Weeeell_ , yes, and also no," he drawled.

Muzan shot him a curious look.

"Look deeper," laughed the figure, almost sounding mocking towards the demon. "His body is the current heir, but his _heart?_ Oh, man; therein lies the worst monster ever known to ancient history. If you press the right buttons, that is."

The mysterious figure added the last statement as an afterthought. It piqued Muzan's interest nonetheless.

"Are you implying that the boy is not human?" he stated, curiosity and fear in equal parts.

"Oh, no, he's fully human," the figure waved off, speaking as if he were an idiot for coming up with such a conclusion. "One's species or race doesn't always turn them into freaks. If you must know, the worst abominations lurk in the darkness of people's hearts. Especially the pure-hearted ones. That being said."

He jabbed a warning finger into Muzan's face once more.

"Remember the vow he made?" said the figure, his once cheerful voice dropping into a dangerous solemn tone. "It would be in your best interest to take it to heart. He may be weak now, but that does not mean he would still be weak the next time you see him."

"Who are you to order me around, human?" snarled Muzan, thrusting a blinding fist to the figure, intent on killing him.

"Dark Fira," chanted the figure, unleashing a volley of light blue flames into the demon's face.

Muzan screeched, batting at the flames burning away at his flesh. Icy terror ran through him; those flames… they weren't natural! The way they ate at him like starved, demented piranhas was telling enough! Demons are supposed to be nigh-invincible, yet here he was, letting himself getting consumed mercilessly by the preternaturally scorching fires.

"Graviga," he heard the figure say next.

An overwhelming force slammed him onto the ground, the hellfires dissipating like they were nothing but illusions. Pinned, the demon struggled and flailed, but even his enhanced strength was of no help against the suddenly intensified gravity field. Craning his head in the barest of inclinations, his red eyes shone with an emotion that Muzan had grown to loathe.

Fear. Not just any fear, the inordinate terror that derived from the cruel realisation that your chances for survival had plummeted to nothing.

"Don't forget, the power you wield now does not belong to you," warned the figure, lowering himself to the demon's eye level. "You've been running on borrowed time. Fate does not like it when someone deviates from her chosen path, see?"

A momentary pause. He broke into fits of sniggering.

"Ah, look at the time!" he exclaimed casually, as if he hadn't just threatened to burn the demon lord into a crisp. "Gotta go now! The spell will lift in… a few minutes after I leave. Enjoy your moment of introspection!"

The figure thrusted a hand, before disappearing from sight. The demon was left there, helplessly pinned onto the ground, surrounded by the filthy remains of the humans he had killed without a second thought. Countless thoughts raced through his mind, yet they all ultimately returned to a single morbid topic that Muzan thought he was now above of.

Death. Mulling in growing horror at how his presumed immortality had started to dwindle to an end.

A fist clenched in defiance. No. He wouldn't let it end, just like that.

A devious plot formed within the fortress of his intellect. One that would bring down his fated nemesis, by hook or by crook!

* * *

Fortunately, the box seemed to be untouched, sitting exactly at where they had left it. None of them would know what to do if they lost it; Urokodaki had explicitly mentioned that this custom-made equipment was built from expensive-cum-rare materials.

He had just slung the lightweight box over his shoulder when the green-haired demon approached them.

"You're quick," muttered Sora, bemused.

"We had to, or else we'll be dead," he shrugged, shifting his eyes between the siblings. "Come on, let's go. Before _his_ minions catch our trail."

"Right."

Wordlessly, the demon led them down the path, through a dark alleyway, then into a few suburban paths, finally coming to a stop in front of a modest-looking wooden wall. They stared at the wall blankly, before unanimously shifting a questioning glance at their escort.

"Well?" he prompted impatiently, chin-pointing at the wall. "Walk through it."

They both let out unconvinced deadpans.

The demon sighs dramatically, throwing his hands up into the air in mock defeat. "It's only an illusion, dammit! Just walk into it. Here, I'll show you."

He phased into the wall, leaving two astonished slayers gawking after him for a moment before poking his head out. His pupils narrowed with annoyance, making him look more feral.

"Are you two just going to stand there and look stupid or what?" he snapped, shaking them out of their dazed trance.

"Yeah, yeah. Coming," mumbled Sora, stepping through the illusion after Xion.

Behind the concealment was a relatively small piece of land, with a large wooden house constructed near its heart. Several talismans, yellow pieces of paper bearing an eerie eye motif engraved in blood-red ink, adorned the walls surrounding the hidden piece of land and the walls of the building itself. Sora, as inquisitive as he was regarding the seemingly excessive numbers of talismans, chose not to comment about it, assuming them to be something that soothes their paranoia over… something, whatever it was.

Quickly led into the house, their escort brought them into a doctor's office - now converted into a makeshift conference hall - where his companion patiently awaited their arrival.

"We're back," announced their escort, sitting on the floor beside the elegant demoness.

"Welcome back," she smiled at the trio, gesturing to the floor with a graceful flourish of her hand. "Please. Take a seat. I've been meaning to speak to you two for quite a while."

Obliging, the two slayers settled down on the tatami mat cross-legged.

"How is he?" blurted Sora, leaning over to the demoness. "The man who got turned, I mean."

"It's unfortunate, but we had to confine him to an underground cell," replied their host, regret tinging her words.

"At least they put a muzzle on him," added the demon, crossing his arms. "He would be a lot harder to control if they hadn't."

"Anyway, who are you two?" asked Xion, her narrowed eyes shifting between the two demons suspiciously. "Why did you wish to talk to us?"

"I am called Tamayo," she introduced, placing a hand over her chest as she told her name before gesturing to the green-haired demon. "This is Yushiro. But we do not refer to ourselves with those names."

"What do you call yourselves, then?" inquired Sora curiously.

Tamayo smiled, as an apparition of a demure blonde wearing a simple white dress replaced her. Brilliant blue eyes like twin sapphires gazed back at the two dumbfounded slayers, sparkling with geniality and amusement.

"Naminé?!" they exclaimed in unison, eyes building as wide as saucers.

"You too, as well?" whispered Xion, her eyes flickering between sakura pink and deep indigo.

"Unfortunately," groused Yushiro. "I'm not showing myself. I enjoy being my own person."

"So who are you?" questioned Sora.

"Better known as Riku Replica, but don't call me anything else other than Yushiro," he huffed, turning his head away haughtily. "You probably don't remember it, but we met in Castle Oblivion."

"I remember you," he protested, offended. "Well, I didn't remember my time in Castle Oblivion until I got trapped in the Final World, but eh."

"I wasn't expecting Xion to join us," Naminé admitted quietly, dispelling the spectre of her former incarnation. "Not so soon, anyway. I had assumed she was elsewhere, just like how the rest of us are scattered all over."

"Naminé… how did you remember?" inquired Xion. "I thought Sora's presence was needed for one of us to recall our past before we came to this life."

"I didn't remember," she answered with a shake of her head. "Because those memories never left me."

"Is that even possible?" gaped Sora.

"I think that only applies to me," laughed Naminé. "As for Yushiro… he only remembered shortly after I turned him into a demon."

"Wait, what?"

"She doesn't go turning everyone into demons," snapped Yushiro, his bottom eyelid twitching in agitation. "Nami's better than that wretch Muzan."

"Yushiro!" she reprimanded, sending him a sharp glare. "Don't be rude. None of us are here to make enemies out of our allies."

"Of course," he quickly responded.

"You know the Corps?" blinked Sora.

"I've been working with them for decades," replied Naminé. "Although, it's a headache to correspond with them, since we're always on the move."

"One question," stated Xion, half-raising a hand. "How can you turn people into demons? I thought only Muzan had that ability."

"It is true that Muzan is the only one who can bolster the demon population," she explained. "But I've developed another method to demonize a person via scientific means. Yet, in over 200 years, Yushiro was the only one I could do this with."

"Nami normally makes this offer whenever she meets a patient with an incurable disease or injury," continued Yushiro. "All of them chose death, rather than forgoing their humanity for the sake of prolonging their lifespans."

"If this is the case, is it possible to reverse the transformation?" asked Sora hopefully.

"Yes," nodded Naminé. "For every injury or illness, there is a treatment. Still, completely reversing the process is impossible at present. I wish to change that, but I cannot do it by myself."

"What is it you need us to do?"

"I need you both to collect blood samples from various demons," she said in a solemn tone. "The closer the demon is to Muzan, the better."

"Like the Twelve Demon Moons?" prompted Xion, her head perking slightly in recollection. "One demon we encountered mentioned that they were his direct servants."

"A Demon Moon has a higher concentration of Muzan's blood in their system than any other demon," agreed Yushiro. "Naturally, those would be our first choice if getting them is possible. They're a lot tougher than regular demons, so you better get stronger if you want to get a decent chance with them."

"Also, I will need some of your blood, Xion," added Naminé. "You are a special case amongst demons, so I believe examining your blood will give us some insight on how to develop the cure."

"How so?" inquired said demoness, tilting her head in bafflement.

"For starters," began Yushiro, scrutinising Xion with narrowed eyes. "You can consume human food with no complications, and you don't feel any hunger until several days after your transformation. Most importantly, you feel repulsed by blood. That's not normal for a demon, since our biology is geared towards digesting raw flesh and blood _exclusively_. Not to mention how your current appearance bears an uncanny resemblance to a human's, even though you're clearly a demon."

Upon seeing Xion's startled look, Yushiro hurriedly added, "Kagaya, or Oyakata as you know him, told us in one of his letters. We weren't stalking you!"

"That sure sounds convincing," quipped Sora with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

"Aw, shut up," he growled, flicking Sora on the forehead.

The brunet yelped, covering the afflicted spot with both hands and glaring back playfully. "Hey, watch it! You've got claws!"

"At least it went through that insufferably thick skull of yours," snarked the reincarnated demon. "It could use a few holes, considering how dense you can get."

"Boys," groaned Xion, snapping a sharp gaze towards them. "Knock it off. We've got more important things on our hands."

"Right!" they piped in unison, straightening their postures to attention.

"With that out of the way," sighed Naminé, shaking her head. "There's another reason why your blood is valuable to our research."

"For us, and I mean those originally from our era like ourselves and the Guardians," said Yushiro. "It takes a lot to transform us fully, but once we do, we're much stronger than the average demon - on par with the Demon Moons even. Nami had some difficulty in changing me initially, simply because my body doesn't show any visible reaction to it unless she brings it up some notches."

"I have a few theories," she continued. "But I can't say for sure whether only one of them is true, or a combination."

"This probably has nothing to do with the topic," began Sora, nervously fidgeting. "But how much blood does he need if he wants to turn one of us into a demon?"

Naminé hummed, tapping her chin in contemplation and her eyes moving skywards. She lowered her gaze after some moments. "For a physical transformation, I would say around the equivalent needed to make a Lower Moon. For him to fully turn us into his faithful servants, body, mind and soul… he would need at least the amount needed to create Upper Moon Four."

She threw a careful glance at a paling Xion. "Since Xion's transformation is physical, her blood concentration would most likely be the equivalent of a Lower Moon."

"Wait, if her transformation is purely physical," interjected Sora, looking at Xion. "Then why does she look human?"

"I might be wrong," admitted the demoness. "He may have pumped a smaller amount of his blood into her. Too much for it to be neutralised, but too little for it to take hold completely."

"Still," interrupted Yushiro, shoving an intrusive finger into Xion's face. "That doesn't mean the change isn't permanent. It might not be enough to demonise you completely like Nami and me, but it's still there, just waiting for the chance to surface."

"I only look like this recently," corrected Xion, batting away the finger with an annoyed scowl. "When I just turned, I had a demonic appearance."

Naminé seemed taken aback. "When, exactly, did you start looking like this?"

"I think… after we unleashed a Fire spell to take down a Demon Moon wannabe," she recalled. "That was when I noticed my claws weren't as pointed as it used to be, and my fangs shortened and blunt."

"Fire?!" they exclaimed unanimously, leaning forwards in astonishment.

"You have a spell scroll with you?" questioned Naminé.

"The one for Blizzard," answered Sora, pulling out said scroll out from his haori and placing it on the table separating him from Naminé. "We found it on the crumbling remains of the demon we killed before coming here. I gave the one containing Fire to Roxas."

"Roxas? He's awake?" spluttered Yushiro.

"Seems like it," said Xion with a small smile.

"Do you know anything about it, Naminé?" asked Sora with a tilt of his head.

"My birth family in this life were mages. One of the few left, in fact," explained the demoness, cautiously holding the scroll in her hands. "In my human days, magical awareness was dwindling at an alarming rate, and scouting those who could cast spells is next to impossible. The scrolls were created not only to test if a person had magical potential, but also to teach them the knowledge they needed to cast the spell."

"But, it backfired," the demon grumbled. "As it turns out, all demons can harness the knowledge kept within the scrolls, provided they have the time and the mental capacity. You can see where that went."

"So why is it written in those weird symbols?" asked Xion.

"Runes. The official term is runes," corrected Yushiro. "It's a form of encryption intended to prevent any unwanted individuals from learning its secrets. All spell scrolls are written in a special ink that reacts to the slightest presence of mana. When magic is channeled into the scrolls, the runes would translate into a language its current holder can understand."

"As of now, no human should be able to use them. Mages - people with mana - have gone extinct for centuries," said Naminé. "Other than the Guardians, that is. If so, magic appears to be a neutralising factor."

She frowned. "There could be other factors aside from this, and it would be better to go with them."

"Get down!" roared Yushiro suddenly.

All four hit the deck, Yushiro shielding protectively over Naminé and Sora holding Xion close, as fast-moving projectiles bombarded into the room, smashing and tearing down walls into splinters. Lights flickered weakly, doing their best to endure the punishment inflicted, before it fell to its brutality, plunging the entire area into darkness. Heavy trepidation loomed over the grim silence, punctuated only by the ruthless crashing of the unidentified attacks rebounding off the walls at high velocities, ruthlessly decimating anything that stood in its way. As soon as it happened, it stopped, the brief peace quickly broken by fits of high-pitched giggling and the chimes of bells from a temari bouncing.

The stench of darkness filled the air - a pungent smell of rotten eggs, otherwise known as the signature scent of irredeemable demons.

"Found them, found them," sing-songed a childish voice from outside. "It's just like you said, Yahaba! A building appeared out of nowhere!"

"Seems like they learned how to use their Blood Demon Art well," mused the demon supposedly named Yahaba. "And the slayer our Lord wants is with them? I wonder what this could mean…"

"Does it matter?" cackled the first voice. "We found them. That means it's playtime for us."

"The way you do things is so impetuous and childish, Susamaru," chided Yahaba. "Most of all, it's messy. Look how you've soiled my kimono with dirt!"

"Oh, hush," snapped Susamaru. "You're being too fussy; your kimono looks fine! If it weren't for my temari balls, we'll never break through their crappy concealment techniques."

"The nerve!" snarled Yushiro, slamming a tightly clenched fist onto the floor. He whipped his slitted pupils towards the two. "Both of you. Prepare to fight for your lives."

"Don't need to tell us twice," muttered Xion, pulling out her silvery-gold nichirin blade.

Nodding, Sora unsheathed his own black-gold katana. The dust kicked up from the balls' rampage settled down, outlining the silhouette of a short-haired demoness with the ends of her locks splitting up in a fashion not unlike a paintbrush, her bright hazel eyes gleaming maliciously through the thick veil of dirt as she bounced a temari ball with one hand.

"Ooh, found you!" she squealed.

_She acts like a playful child, but she's crazy powerful with her temari!_

Still cackling, Susamaru flung her temari into the gaping hole in the wall, letting it wreak havoc within the interior of the building. Sora and Xion pressed themselves flat against the floor, eager to avoid the ball's dangerous trajectories, beads of cold sweat clinging onto their skin.

" _There's no way we could engage them if it keeps on bouncing like this!"_ thought Sora in alarm.

" _Well, think of something!"_ he heard Yushiro snap irritably. _"Don't you slayers have some fancy tricks up your sleeve?"_

" _I have a plan,"_ announced Xion through the mental link. _"Yushiro, Sora, do you mind?"_

" _Anything to stop this shenanigan,"_ agreed the demon, gritting his fangs at the hyperactive attack. _"Spill. What've you got?"_

" _Lure the ball towards us,"_ revealed Xion, slowly rising to her feet. _"Sora'll take down the temari, and I'll take her on."_

" _Sounds fair,"_ he replied, glowing feline eyes narrowing.

" _What? How can you even lure-"_

Xion pressed a hand over Sora's mouth, warning him to cease the telepathic message. Getting the hint, he assumed a low crouching stance and braced himself, planning the most effective combo within his mind and anticipating the right moment to destroy the berserk temari.

He charged towards them. Suddenly, the temari ground to a halt in a split second, abruptly changing its trajectory mid-air and shooting towards the back of Yushiro's head at full speed. The corner of Xion's lips twitched into a smirk, fingers drumming restlessly at the hilt of her weapon. He smirked back, feeling the ball closing in at his skull, just as he reached within their slashing range.

" _Go!"_

Yushiro sidestepped without so much as a warning, rapidly followed by Sora executing the next part of the plan.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust!_

Before the ball could alter its path, the slayer's katana had impaled it. As though having a life of its own, it vibrated wildly, trying to yank itself free from the blade. Inhaling a breath, Sora executed the second part of his combo.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin!_

With a yell, he slammed his nichirin blade ruthlessly onto the flooring, splitting the temari ball into clean halves. Taking the cue, Xion lunged out of the hole, her sword drawn back as though intending on decapitation upon the first strike. However, Susamaru didn't seem to take her seriously, if her blithe giggles had reflected on her actual thought processes.

"Oh, look, Yahaba!" crowed Susamaru gleefully, followed by frustrated grunts and skidding of feet on the dirt. "We have a demon pretending to be a demon slayer! What fun!"

"How disgraceful," he heard Yahaba spat out, making his blood run ice cold inside his veins. "Have you no shame, siding with humans?"

That was the breaking point for Sora. In a flash, he scurried out of the building, his muscles taut like a predatory feline sneaking up to its prey. Outside, Xion had engaged with not one, but _two,_ demons in combat, and it looked as if she was on the verge of going feral. A few times, he caught sight of her trying to deliver vicious kicks to Susamaru, only for her to stumble at the last minute, as if something had caught her foot mid-kick and threw it aside. Inwardly, he sighed; just how rotten was her luck?

Drawing in a deep breath, he dashed forwards, trying to seize his opportunity as his opponents' attention were fully on a struggling Xion. He weaved in between them, his sword arcing in a concentrated slash.

Yahaba thrusted a palm towards Sora, before his blade could even graze their skin. He sucked in a breath in shock the moment he laid his eyes of the hideous yellow eye - sclera and all - on his palm, a red arrow pointing northwards inside its pupil. The next thing he knew, he was sent flying at breakneck speeds, crashing another hole through the walls from the exterior of the house.

"You idiot!" screamed Yushiro. "Don't just rush blindly! Pay attention to the arrows! They'll tell you where the attacks are heading!"

"What arrows?" groaned Sora, picking himself up despite the flaring pain on his back.

"Tsk! I'll lend you my sight," he snapped, whipping a hand towards Sora. "You'll see what I mean!"

Something sharp embedded into Sora's forehead, a crisp piece of paper fluttering on the top of his face. Cracking open an eye, he barely had time to react as a red arrow soared past him, this one having Xion in its grasp. He sidestepped the attack in the nick of time, much to the demoness' misfortune. She landed next to the spot he had collapsed in with a hiss, katana clanging to the floor beside her, her face scrunched up in a pained grimace. She twitched, blood trickling down her left temple and one of her legs reduced to a pitiful looking bloody stump.

"Xion!" cried Sora in dismay.

"Sora! Focus on taking them down; I'll heal her!" implored Naminé, blood running down her face. Her skin and flesh rapidly knitted itself back to its former state. "Don't worry about us. We won't die!"

Susamaru cackled. "Oh, such killjoys! Who would've thought they would go down so easily?"

" _Use your magic!"_ Naminé urged through the telepathic link. _"You said you've learned Fire, right?"_

"Well, the sooner we finish, the better," chuckled Yahaba sadistically. "Susamaru, if you would?"

"My pleasure," she drawled, her voice just as cruel as her partner's.

" _Got it,"_ nodded Sora, shooting the demonic trio a final but furtive glance, before charging back into the fray to engage the duo.

Mid-sprint, he made a show of gripping his katana tightly, much to the enemy demoness' delight. Her eyes gleamed, as though pleased to have another what she deemed as 'another round' in her sick game of deadly temari ball bouncing.

"Ooh, you still have some fight in you?" she crooned, eyes glinting in excitement. "What fun! I hope you last longer this time."

"Susamaru!" admonished Yahaba.

She leapt back, avoiding Sora's feint with a maniacal grin. A temari ball materialised in an open palm mid-air, which was promptly hurled towards the still-dashing slayer. He glanced up at the projectile: no arrow. Just a ball launched purely with Susamaru's enhanced strength.

Biding his time, Sora kept up his act of using his sword to intercept it, waiting for the ball's trajectory to line up with the demoness.

Eyes widening a fraction in deep concentration as soon as he caught the perfect moment, he thrust an open palm at the temari, calling upon the hidden depths of powers slumbering within his soul to assist him in this grueling battle. Fiery warmth spread through his body, rushing into his outstretched arm and gathering at the hand he had held out.

_Fire!_

Twin fireballs erupted from his hand, the first incinerating the temari into ashes and the second heading straight towards the chest of a gobsmacked Susamaru. Out of nowhere, an arrow stabbed into the heart of the supernatural ball of flames, diverting the spell into a sharp u-turn and sending it back to its summoner. Taken aback, he swung his blade across the flames on instinct, dispelling it with a slash.

"Well, it seems you've got some tricks up your sleeve," taunted Yahaba with a devious smirk.

"Does it matter? He should be honoured that one of the Twelve Demon Moons is taking his life," said Susamaru. "No fancy trick will save you now!"

She narrowly avoided a fireball to the face, the spell singing off the tips of her split-end locks.

"That's how you wanna play, huh?" she snarled. "Fine! We'll play it rough!"

With a flourish of her arm, Susamaru threw off her kimono, leaving her upper body naked except for orange fabric wrapping tightly around her chest. _Four_ extra arms sprouted from the sides of her body with sickening rips of skin, the demonic flesh contorting unnaturally to the whims of its mistress. She grinned, materialising six balls out of nothing.

And she threw, the balls' hurtling towards him in erratic motions, their already swift velocity accelerated further by the red arrows.

 _What a dangerous combination,_ he thought to himself, beginning to sweat.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance_

Mimicking the graceful movements of a dancer, he maneuvered in the empty spaces between the six attacks, bringing down his katana whenever a temari sailed straight towards him. Yet, unlike before, the cleaved halves would not fall. Instead, they flew in random directions, battering into him like possessed hailstones in an attempt to break his form.

Still, those measly attacks wouldn't stop him!

He was so, so, _so_ close to his goal when he felt himself whisked away - once again - by a stray arrow he failed to notice. Sora's form shattered, leaving him at the mercy of the arrow as fast-moving temari balls viciously battered him. It yanked him off on a steep skyward trip, then plunging so abruptly that the air threatened to escape his lungs. Despite the pain and the sudden hitch in breathing, his mind was clear enough for him to react well before it could become the death of him.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel!_

Summoning the rest of his strength, Sora tucked himself into a ball and forced his body to move anticlockwise - against the arrow's trajectory. The arrow's pull on him dissipated, slowing down his fall, but unfortunately for him, he had made a glaring oversight.

He had interrupted the arrow too soon.

 _Crap!,_ realised Sora, gravity seizing him milliseconds after. Hastily sucking in another breath, he readied another form to break his otherwise deadly fall.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin!_

Letting loose a strained grunt, Sora slammed his nichirin blade onto the ground, softening the momentum of his descent just enough for him to land safely, knees bent. Whistlings broke his reverie, driving to sidestep just in time to avoid multiple arrows - he counted at least eight - hurtling towards him. Numerous beads of sweat rolled down his face from exertion. Airway scorching from the copious amounts of dry, crisp oxygen gulped in, and his evasive motions growing defter in proportion to the arrows' exponential increase in franticness. They wildly lunged at the holes in his defense, seeking to take hold of him and eager to bash his body into any concrete surfaces it could find.

Sora decided a change in tactics would be adequate when one arrow grazed his undefended arm, almost dragging him along with it before the force was cancelled off with a modified Water Surface Slash.

 _I must blow them away somehow!,_ he thought with a tight clench of his teeth, watching the temari-arrow combo barrelling back towards him. _I can't continue loitering around like this._

Huffing, he sprinted off, doing his best to close the distance between himself and the demon. Calling upon his magic mid-sprint, the occult energy hummed in response to his will, patiently awaiting his commands. In his mind, he plotted out an improvised fire attack that derived from a combo move he used to do with Donald. Idly, Sora wondered if the effects of Unison Flare would be weakened when it was executed by a single person rather than a partner as intended.

Well, never try, never know, right?

Heat enveloped him, imaginary flames licking at his hands and feet that seemed to act as a restorative spell, alleviating the dull pain from the slammings he'd received. Shifting furtive glances, Sora saw the six controlled temari balls surrounding him in random zigzag patterns. He sped up, his fiery mana resonating with his emotions, waiting for the moment the arrows went for him.

Barely a microsecond after, the arrows lunged for him, full throttle, from all sides.

_Firestorm!_

Flames erupted from his entire being, cloaking himself in an aura of arcane fire that destroyed the temari balls into dust. With a battle cry, Sora charged, morphing into a literal firebolt, feeling his once weary body strengthened by the comfortingly familiar thrum of magical energy underneath his skin.

A string pulled taut, connecting his blade to a discreet crook of Yahaba's neck.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!_

Steel catching fire, the heat dyeing black-gold into fiery crimson. It slashed, but the demon had regained his nerves at the worst time. As a last-ditch move, Yahaba shoved his hands forward, directing his arrows to alter the firebolt's route.

Sora glared at the desperation attacks defiantly. _Oh no, you don't!_

He spun at a breakneck pace, turning himself from a firebolt into an unstoppable vortex of fire, the flames lashing out at the arrows that dispelled them upon contact. With the obstacles out of the way, the imaginary spider silk thread tugged his blade towards the demon's vulnerable spot, crimson steel connecting with cursed flesh. Splatters of blood spouting from a now headless neck accompanied with grating shrieks followed.

Yahaba's screams died away with the instant disintegration of his remains, as did his magical enhancement. Exhaustion and searing pain overtook him, his limbs feeling stiffer and denser than adamantium. With an inelegant buckle, he crumpled onto his knees, the katana hitting the ground with a metallic clatter, the crimson shade of the metal darkening back into its black-gold gradient.

Warm blasts of heat piqued Sora's interest, drawing his gaze to another firebolt - this one bluish white - clashing against Susamaru. His lips twitched into a proud smile; no doubt, that was Xion. Her flames were much more scorching that he could ever aspire to be, for he innately knew of her affinity towards the magical arts. That was the peculiarity amongst the Guardians: all three females in the group are much more adept with magic than they were, Aqua being the most proficient out of the trio.

The last ounce of his energy spent, Sora collapsed onto the ground, struggling to remain conscious. The last things registering in his addled mind were Susamaru's defeated shrieks and the bluish-white flames surrounding Xion dissipating in a flare of glaring silvery light.

Darkness claimed him, and he knew no more.

* * *

"Sora… no…" Xion protested weakly, her mind woozy with pain.

Her brother did not hear her, having already leapt back into the fray with a fire in his eyes. A still-bleeding Naminé knelt beside her broken form, producing a small bottle containing a pale yellowish viscous liquid and a medical syringe from seemingly nowhere.

"Keep your breathing steady," instructed Naminé, stabbing the syringe's needle through the stopper of the bottle.

A sharp inhale, followed by a trembling exhale. Set to repeat. Excruciating agony flared through her entire body like a malignant disease with every breath she took, blocking her mind from all of her senses. It was a chore just to keep the blurriness out of her vision, or struggling against the seductive lull of slumber. Inwardly, she weakly berated herself for being so easily aggravated into a rage by her opponents. Fingers twitched in response to their mistress' agitation.

 _I'm too careless!,_ she scolded herself, grimacing both in pain and anger. _Why did I think it was a good idea to kick those damn temari back at her?!_

" _Don't beat yourself up, you did your best,"_ comforted Naminé, pulling out a now empty syringe. She glanced outside, where a chaotic battle ensued. _"With those two together, there's no way you can take them on solo."_

" _Solo…"_ Xion trailed off absent-mindedly, and a brilliant idea flashed into her mind. "That's it!"

"Better get a move on," hissed Yushiro anxiously. Blood caked at one side of his head, a cavity visible from where a temari ball had smashed through his skull. "I don't think Sora's going to last long against them."

"At least long enough for Xion to regrow her leg," assured the older demoness, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything else.

Obnoxious squelches resounded, and the disgusting sensation of her flesh and skin regrowing at a rapid rate overtook her, frantically restoring the damage taken. The pain subsided somewhat as soon as the recovery process ended, clearing her mind enough for her to think straight. Grunting, she snatched the hilt of her nichirin blade, stabbing the tip onto the wooden boards to support her full weight, forcing herself to stand back on her two feet.

She sprung back into the fray, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris in her wake, all focused on the supporting role of Yahaba's side. Just like before, she was pitching temari balls one after the other without a care in the world, cackling maniacally whenever an arrow sped up its already quick momentum.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Fourth Form: Striking Tide!_

Much to Xion's dismay, Yahaba had seen the incoming blade, narrowly evading the blow with a slight tilt of his neck. The demon clicked his tongue in annoyance, lashing out a hand to direct an arrow to send her off-course. It caught the top of her sword, tugging her away and about to slam against the wall once again. The attack shattered with a powerful spin, the result of a Water Wheel, and Xion landed at least a good twenty feet away from the two demons.

"Heh, you take her Susamaru," stated Yahaba with a condescending sneer. "I'm in no mood to deal with dirty traitors."

Privately, Xion grinned to herself in victory. Here's the fair one-on-one fight they've been waiting for!

"You've got it," grinned the brown-haired demoness, eyes glinting. "Come on, let's play!"

Materialising six temari balls, Susamaru wasted no time in flinging it towards Xion. The latter's eyes narrowed. Without Yahaba's arrows manipulating them, these large projectiles could only move in one general direction - forward, sprinkled with the occasional curveball if she took the angle of the throw into consideration.

This would make her relatively easier to take down.

Not even bothering to slice them, Xion fell back into a routine of dodging, the balls ramming holes behind them in loud crashes, taking immense pleasure with how it seemed to irk Susamaru's nerves. Her movements became more and more chaotic from frustration, an unpleasant snarl spreading across her face.

"Stand still, moron!" yelled Susamaru, her arms blurring from the sheer speed they were moving in. "And let me beat you into a bloody paste!"

"All the more reason not to!" snarked Xion with a taunting smile.

Enraged, she flung another temari ball, this one aimed for her head. With the few seconds she had before it collided, Xion toyed with the idea of kicking the ball for a split second, before deciding to go with it just to see what would happen. Perhaps it was the mystery liquid Naminé injected into her bloodstream making her reckless, but at the present moment, the demoness simply couldn't care less. All she wanted to do right now was to mess with Susamaru for all the pain and trouble she caused.

She kicked herself into a sprint, launching herself into a front somersault as though intending on Water Wheeling the sailing ball. At the last minute, Xion stretched out her left leg, using the buildup of momentum to deflect the temari ball back to its sender.

A wave of relief washed over her when she realised that her leg was still in one piece.

Landing nimbly back on her feet, she continued her charge, a strange power fueling her body further. Overwhelming heat coursed through her veins, but it wasn't the malevolent sort like the fevers that often came with severe colds. This one was like downing an Elixir after receiving a heavy blow from hard-hitting enemies like the massive Boss Heartless, revitalising her like nothing she ever felt since coming to this life.

Hitting an imaginary limit point, Xion instinctively called upon the restless energy that had been thrumming restlessly deep within her heart, her lips subconsciously twitching into a nostalgic smile as the heat overtook her.

_Firestorm!_

With a yell, an aura of ghostly blue flames burst to life, cloaking her in arcane flames that empowered Xion further. She shot like a bullet, white flames streaking behind in her wake.

"What the-!" exclaimed Susamaru in shock. "What kind of Blood Demon Art is this?!"

"Think again," taunted Xion, her countenance hardening in slight annoyance when her slash missed.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter," she mused, her hazel eyes now shining with maniacal excitement. "This is getting more and more fun!"

Temari balls were hurled at a breakneck pace. Swerving at a sharp angle, Xion prepared her stance for another technique to be utilised in tandem with the magical fiery aura encompassing her.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance!_

From a furious firebolt, Xion morphed it into a more graceful form, decimating the flurry of balls with an elegant yet swift twirl-strike. In her peripheral vision, her sword transformed into a haze of crimson, rapidly cutting through the attacks with laughable ease. It was as if the entire battlefield had become a stage, with the combatants as its performers. The projectiles fell with a single strike, which unfortunately seemed to boost Xion's already heightened speed further with every successful hit landed.

Before anyone knew it, the swordswoman found herself in front of a panicking Susamaru. In desperation, she increased her speed, her arms fading into invisible blurs as she tried to keep the fire demon away. The balls collided against Xion, she could feel the impact of the blow, but it was softened dramatically by the occult fires wrapping around her, the flames incinerating the silk-woven balls before it could penetrate through.

Her desperation attack had done nothing to hinder her imminent defeat, unfortunately for Susamaru.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!_

Both hands gripping the handle, the demoness swung her nichirin blade, severing Susamaru's head off her body with a concentrated horizontal slash. Shrieks pierced the air, and she crumbled into ash instantaneously. Xion frowned, since when did a defeated demon's degradation occur so quickly?

Flames subsiding, and dizzying fatigue seized her. Her mind blacked out. The last thing she remembered was a bright flare of silver light and the sensation of falling. By the time she hit the ground, she had already lost consciousness.

* * *

Blinking out the bleariness in his eyes, it took Sora a few solid minutes for the memories to come rushing back in.

"You're awake," sighed Naminé in relief.

He snapped his eyes towards the demoness. She gazed back with her lavender eyes.

"How long was I out? Where am I?" rasped Sora, cautiously pushing himself upright, wincing as a sharp pain seared through his temples and his chest "Ow, that hurts…"

"For the entire day," replied Naminé. "And you are in the basement. We moved you two here just before the sun rose. You've sustained a few cracked ribs, some bruises and apparently a migraine."

She cracked a teasing smile upon saying the last word. "I would advise you to take a break from missions, both for your injuries to recover nicely and your mana reservoirs to replenish fully."

"That sounds great," he chuckled. "I've gone for three missions in a row. I'm beat!"

He perked, remembering Xion. As though sensing Sora's concern, Naminé quickly explained that she was physically fine, and that she was resting in a different room. The former exhaled in relief upon hearing the news.

"You know, when I said use your magic, I wasn't expecting you to pull out a Limit," she chuckled, awkwardly twining her fingers together.

"Firestorm," blurted Sora, thinking back of the fiery aura that gave him immeasurable strength. Seeing Naminé's curious look, he quickly added, "I think that was the name of the Limit."

"Try not to use any more Limits for the time being," advised the demoness, her teasing demeanour giving way to a solemn one. "Same goes for Xion. Your bodies are still adjusting to the presence of mana, so any violent fluctuations will have adverse side effects. Count yourself lucky that all you got was a short coma and a splitting headache."

"Understood," he said with a nod. Suddenly, he paused. "By the way…"

"What is it?"

"You look different," he stated bluntly, pointing to her hair. "Your hair… it used to be tipped with blonde. But now it's fully black."

"Oh, that," laughed Naminé, brushing a stray strand off her face. "That is how I looked at birth. You can do it too."

"I can?" repeated Sora in astonishment.

"Just visualise," she prompted gently. "Imagine yourself without the secondary colours."

Obliging, Sora closed his eyes, focusing on a mental image of how _he_ would look like without his interference. Unbeknownst to him, the brown tips of his wavy locks gradually melted away into a brilliant shade of auburn, identical to the colour of its roots. He opened his eyes, pure burgundy irises - devoid of his sky blue flecks - reflecting with a childishly hopeful light.

"Did it work?"

"Yes," she smiled. "I must say, auburn suits you surprisingly well."

Sora scratched the side of his head bashfully, reverting back to his default appearance.

"We can also revert back to how we looked originally," added Naminé. "But I wouldn't recommend doing it in public. Do it when you're absolutely sure you found them."

"Sounds fair," he shrugged.

"Oh, and about your uniform…"

"What about it?" questioned Sora.

"I've expanded your pockets," she explained. "This will allow you to carry more things at once."

"Like my old clothes?" he asked, thinking of the limitless room of the pockets on his magical clothing

"That's right," affirmed Naminé with a nod. "Aside from collecting blood samples, I want you to do one more thing for me."

"And what would that be?"

"Collect as many spell scrolls as you can," stated the demoness. "In the wrong hands, they can be extremely destructive. It would be better if you keep a hold of them."

"Alright," agreed Sora. "That's what the extra space you enchanted my pockets are for, right? To stash them away without having to worry that someone unsavoury would find it?"

"That's one way to put it."

"Nami?" called Yushiro, knocking at the door. "There's a Kasugai Crow demanding to see Sora."

"Let him in," responded Naminé.

The door creaked open, the demon stepping in with Matsuemon perched on his wrist. He lowered his arm, and the black avian craned his neck towards Sora.

"Caw! Tanjiro, as you and Nezuko have completed three missions in a row, the Corps have granted you a well-deserved rest, caw!" croaked Matsuemon. "As soon as you're ready, pack up and follow me to the nearest wisteria house, caw!"

"Thank goodness," Sora breathed a sigh of relief. "I seriously thought the Corps is going to make me go on another mission."

"Caw! The Demon Slayer Corps are not slave-drivers," retorted the Kasugai Crow. "Oyakata-sama knows the limits of each slayer. Don't kick up such a fuss, caw!"

"Alright then," he nodded. "We'll be ready to go by… what's the time now?"

"It's already nighttime," giggled Naminé. "Why don't you stay here for the night, and move out tomorrow morning?"

"Speaking of moving," interjected Yushiro. "Nami, we have to relocate ASAP. If Muzan's minions found us, then he'll soon know we're here. We can't risk that; my Blood Demon Art can only hide us for so long."

"It wouldn't hurt for us to stay around to help them recover, would it?" she rebuked lightly. "Once they leave tomorrow, we can start relocating. Is that reasonable?"

"I suppose," the green-haired demon conceded with a huff.

Amused laughter filled the room, bringing the disastrous day to an end with a somewhat cheerful note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Another chapter done. And woo! We've passed the ten chapter milestone. That's something worth celebrating! Also, I apologise in advance if the fights feel anti-climatic and flat. Anyway, I hope this chapter is up to your expectations.


	11. A Traverse in Trance

As promised, Sora and Xion left for the nearest wisteria house as soon as the sky lightened up.

Prior to their departure, Xion had given some of her blood for Naminé's research in creating a medicinal cure to reverse demonification, the remaining time was then occupied by siestas and story exchanges. After the blood sample was extracted, she gave Sora a special needle to extract demon blood samples with, telling him that it could siphon the fluid automatically once it stuck into flesh. Along with the equipment, the elder demoness gifted them two spell scrolls - both of them status spells, as well as returning their Blizzard scroll. All three of them promptly went into his magically enlarged pockets, the first two receiving much protests from the two slayers initially before they were reluctantly talked into accepting them.

The hanafuda card earrings were removed after the excitement of the previous night had faded, carefully kept in a wisteria incense sachet gifted by Kiyoko - the hostess of the first wisteria house he ever visited.

He didn't know the exact reason why, other than a stubborn gut feeling that they had been targeted that night because of those earrings. No matter the reasoning behind it, Sora couldn't help but feel guilty taking them off, for he felt that they had symbolised his full acceptance of becoming a member of the Kamado family. Removing them felt as though he had turned his back on them, for the sake of fulfilling his primary goal. It was an irrational thought, that Sora knew for sure. Xion didn't hesitate to voice similar opinions to him when he told her about it.

Although, it was strangely cathartic when he thought of it as the family legacy was now kept out of harm's way.

Just as they were about to leave - Xion holed up in her box, Yushiro popped by to not only give his version of a friendly goodbye, but offer a parting gift in the form of nuggets of valuable information.

"Hey, Sora," he had said, his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against a wall perpendicular to the entrance. "Have you ever heard of Marechi?"

"No, I haven't," answered Sora truthfully, frowning. He wondered why Yushiro had brought that up. "Why do you ask?"

"Just to confirm," the green-haired demon answered simply, not meeting Sora's curious gaze. "Anyway, Marechi are people with a rare blood. They are the demons' equivalent of a gourmet dish and power booster, rolled into one. A Marechi's nutritional value is the same as consuming fifty ordinary people."

"Then, wouldn't that mean…" Sora trailed off, his face paling in horror.

"Yes, it's exactly what you think it is," he nodded. "If they bleed, they'll be targeted first, as most demons can't resist the allure of the exotic smell. Be careful whenever you're rescuing a civilian from their filthy clutches; they may have rare blood."

"Okay."

"Oh, and another thing," said Yushiro, as an afterthought. "You have a similar effect as Marechi, but it wouldn't matter if you're bleeding or not. It's like a passive ability that couldn't be hidden away, no matter what you do."

"Just great," the slayer groaned.

"But for different reasons," he hissed, voice rising in irritation as though indirectly saying 'I'm not finished yet, you dumbass'. "Demons - the man-eating ones, not us or Xion - are creatures of darkness in a way that's like the Heartless. As such, they feel an innate hatred to the aura of light you and the rest of the awakened Guardians give out. The stronger you get, so will your aura, and the more belligerent they will act towards you. This is especially the case for high-ranking demons like the Twelve Demon Moons. Don't be too surprised if a demon bull-headedly targets you first, if you ever find yourself some allies that are not members of the Guardians."

" _So that's why we got attacked all over at Mt. Fujikasane,"_ mused Xion in realisation. _"They weren't just hungry for Sora's flesh; they were also attracted by our light!"_

"Sucks to be you two," Yushiro offered sympathetically.

"So you're saying we're walking trouble magnets?"

" _Sora!"_ protested the demoness, rattling her box in indignation. _"If I become a trouble magnet, it's all because of you! You're the biggest trouble magnet there is in the worlds."_

"That's a fitting way to put it," Yushiro barked out an amused laugh.

"Oh, thanks," huffed Sora, feigning offense at their teasing words. He still couldn't stop the amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, though.

" _Then what about me?"_ asked Xion curiously. _"I am a Guardian as well. But the demons don't show a lot of aggression towards me, aside from a few scathing words about my allegiance, unless I antagonise them."_

"Demons are basically shades," he explained matter-of-factly. "Your aura now is muffled because of your curse. You're still light-oriented. Well, as close to the light as a shadow can get. Once you fully and permanently revert into a human, they'll go aggro towards you just as much as they will to Sora."

"So that's how it is," the slayer muttered under his breath, before he brightened up. "We have nothing to worry about, then. By the time we can reverse the curse on Xion, we would be strong enough to fend them off easily."

"Hmph. I should hope so," scoffed Yushiro derisively, but Sora could see a smile on his face. "It's time for you two to leave. The sun's rising soon! Go on, scram! And don't you dare use your magic until your ribs heal over!"

"Heard you loud and clear!" laughed Sora, doing a mock salute to the demon with two fingers. "I'll send your regards to Oyakata if I can, alright?"

"You better!" shouted the demon after their retreating figure, watching the two stepping out of what remained of his concealment spell.

* * *

" _Sora?"_

"Hmm?" replied Sora aloud, after making sure that no one could hear him. "What is it?"

"… _Father taught you the Dance, didn't he?"_ she asked tentatively, and he could almost imagine her nervously twiddling with her fingers.

"You mean the Dance of the Fire God?" he blurted contemplatively, glancing up at the soaring black dot that is Matsuemon against the pastel-toned sky. "Yeah, he did. Why do you ask?"

" _I know the tradition is that only the eldest gets to learn it, but…"_ Xion trailed off, letting a pregnant silence drag out for an uncomfortable period. _"But can you teach me the Dance?"_

"Eh?" spluttered Sora, caught off-guard at the sudden speed at which Xion had spouted the last sentence. "Slow down, Xion. I didn't catch what you said."

" _Is it fine with you if you teach me the Dance of the Fire God?"_ repeated the demoness, this time in a much calmer pace.

"What are you even asking? Of course it's fine!" he exclaimed, feeling slightly hurt that she thought he would refuse her request. "It's supposed to be a family inheritance, isn't it? I don't see why you, as a part of the family, shouldn't be allowed to learn it. But why the sudden interest?"

" _Just that… now that I think about it, the Dance is a lot like a breath style. Don't you agree?"_

"Yeah," mumbled Sora, frowning as he remembered the mesmerisingly spirited fashion of its dance forms. "It reminded me a lot of the techniques I used to pull off when I still had the Keyblade. Maybe that was why I took to learning it so easily. The breathing rhythm is a bit tricky, though. It's like the Water Breathing, but much rougher and way more intense."

" _I can handle it,"_ replied Xion confidently.

"But maybe not now," said Sora sheepishly, scratching the side of his cheek. "Naminé told me to refrain from strenuous activities until I recover, but I'll see to it whenever I can. It's embarrassing to say this, but I think I need to refresh my memory. I haven't done it for… two years, I think?"

" _Oh man,"_ she gasped, a dull thud resounding inside the box. _"I can't believe we forgot to honour that tradition!"_

"We'll make up for it in the week leading to this New Year's Eve," he reassured, patting the side of the box as though he was patting her shoulder. "Somehow. And maybe this time, we could do it together."

" _Thanks, Sora,"_ hummed Xion gratefully.

"No problem," smiled the brunet. "Oh, and we're here."

They came to a gate bearing a familiar crest engraved with purple ink - the kanji '藤' surrounded by two intricately drawn wisteria vines. The signature emblem for the family that had been providing sanctuary for the swordsmen of the Demon Slaying Corps. Slowly, the gates creaked open, revealing two girls garbed in identical kimonos behind them, bowing reverently at the newly arrived Sora.

Like before, they were ushered into the residence, repeating the routine that Sora experienced the previous time. Except, this wisteria house was hosted by a family of seven. A middle-aged couple, a gangling youth in his early twenties, a pair of identical twin sisters around Sora's physical age, and an elderly but friendly couple which he assumed were the grandparents. Although, it was different in the sense that he was instantly served breakfast upon arrival and a change in attire. Their uniforms were quickly taken away to be washed and mended.

Not that neither of them minded. Although the latter's sudden appearance caused some confusion amongst the hosts, since she had entered via box.

Mealtime turned out not to be a two-man affair as they had expected. Not because the hosting family had joined them, but because there was another slayer recuperating under the same roof. Like themselves, instead of wearing the Corps' uniform, he wore a dark kimono and a pensive countenance that reminded the two siblings of a disciplined samurai as they were commonly illustrated in literature.

That was clear in the manner as he sat on the floor in a flawless seiza position, both hands on his lap and his eyes closed as though meditating. Spikes of chestnut hair flanked the sides of his head, the rest pulled back into a neat but short ponytail. His complexion was dark, complementing his light brown locks and his brawny frame well. What was amazing was the fact that he did not even so much as twitch at any movements in his surroundings, his posture unnaturally still like a stubborn mountain resisting wear from the passage of time.

The only time the man broke from his meditative trance was when the hosts had brought in their meals. Even then, he didn't move until they had left the room for them to enjoy their meal in privacy. Eyes cracking open, revealing dark brown irises that betrayed no emotion whatsoever, he muttered a word of thanks to their now absent hosts. It was only then did he finally acknowledge his two gawking spectators-cum-juniors with a slight incline of his head.

"Are you from the Corps as well?" asked Sora curiously.

The man nodded.

"What's your name?" the demoness followed up with a question of her own. "I'm Nezuko Kamado."

"My name's Tanjiro, Nezuko's older brother," introduced Sora in an amicable tone, his brow twitching when the still-foreign name rolled off his tongue.

"…Genki Bushida," the hulking man finally relented, his voice a deep rumbling baritone.

" _Wow, he's not much of a talker, is he?"_ commented Sora wryly.

" _He's like Lexaeus,"_ Xion chimed in her agreement. _"Strong and silent. Someone who would rather let their actions speak for them."_

They spent the rest of breakfast in silence, broken by their attempts to engage him in small talk. Ranging from which Breath Style he uses (Breath of Stone) to his current ranking in the Corps (Kinoe) and his family (no response), all of which he offered his responses in as terse a manner as possible. Occasionally, Sora would find himself stricken by the fear that he had found their attempts to get him out of his shell irritating, only to be reassured by the lack of the telltale scent. Instead, a thin smell of amusement enveloped him, much like how an adult would regard the innocence of a toddler.

If it weren't for his acute sense of smell, Sora would have genuinely thought Genki was not at all amused by their nosy prodding. This thought was bolstered even more when the senior slayer politely excused himself, much to the immense surprise of one of the hosts.

"I had thought he was mute," joked the middle-aged woman, who they later learned was named Hoshiko. "Even to us, the most he would do was send us a grateful smile. And that was only once!"

Genki still didn't talk much since their first meeting, although bumping into each other was a regular occurrence. Every time it happened, it felt as though the man would make it a point to at least flash a small but friendly smile their way before walking off to do whatever business that needs his attention.

A doctor visited and examined them after breakfast. To no one's surprise, he had announced Sora to have cracked ribs, prescribing him a week off missions and renewing the bandages wrapping around his splotchy chest. Xion, obviously, had no apparent injuries or physical complications, but she was still permitted to rest with Sora. They had holed themselves up in their assigned guest room for the rest of the morning and partially into the afternoon, studying the three scrolls unrolled before them.

It wasn't really studying like they did with the Fire scroll, now that they know how to utilise them. This was more like skimming through a chapter in a textbook before it was covered in a class.

One of the scrolls waiting to be mastered was Blizzard, and the other two gifts from Naminé. One of them seemed to teach them how to cast Cure, and the other Esuna. The latter was a wild guess, since it had no pictorial illustration unlike Cure, which had an intricate sketch of a bellflower underneath the kanji '癒'. The Esuna scroll only had the kanji '解', which they both came to agree that it meant dispelling a status condition.

Having no other way to proceed due to their current circumstances, they stashed away the scrolls for another day, whilst they filled in their break period with miscellaneous activities ranging from giving their katanas their long due maintenance to chatting with the members of the host family.

However, one thought plagued Sora's mind the entire day. A particular memory from earlier, to be exact. Xion's sudden request to learn the Dance made him strangely giddy, and he had the urge to teach her the steps right there and then in spite of the fact that he was in no condition for strenuous activities. At least, that was what everyone sans himself thought. There was, in fact, a way for him to fulfill her request, but he wasn't sure if he could access the ethereal plane like before. Or whether she could enter the realm, if he could.

She was a Keyblade Wielder like himself, so she shouldn't have any issues. Right?

Ironic that he would find the need to revisit his former prison, because of his current circumstances. It was an exquisite place, with the infinite expanse of sea and sky, but even the most gorgeous of landscapes could get dull if that was all you see. Along with the countless worries of the life Sora had left behind as the price for his thoughtless intervention, there was no room left in his mind for him to properly enjoy the Final World.

Well, he'll have to give it a shot tonight, and hope for the best. For his, and Xion's sake.

* * *

That was unexpected. Seems he still got it down, albeit having to take a detour before arriving at the destination.

'It' basically entering the Station first, then getting washed away by a metaphysical tsunami wave before surfacing back at the ethereal realm of sky and water. The Final World had changed little since he last saw it, with the minor exception of the dawn sky when it had been night, as though to reflect Sora's renewed slate. That wasn't the only change that had occurred in said world.

Through the sole reflection in the glistening surface, Sora discovered - in equal parts shock and awe - that he had reverted to his original appearance. Spiky brown hair? Check. Brilliant blue eyes? Check. Tanned islander skin? Check. Crown necklace. Check. His magical combat attire from his final adventure? Also check. What was missing was Kingdom Key, and it would complete the picture of his original self. That last part was a letdown, since the Keyblade still refused to answer his summons. The only weapon that he could wield now was his nichirin blade.

Which now hung from his hip in its scabbard.

Well, fine. He'll take what he could get. Doesn't mean he had expected the weapon to be carried over. Or his entire inventory, for that matter (yes, he rifled through his pockets to find - surprise! Three spell scrolls, his incense sachet and Kairi's wayfinder).

Either way, those were not the most important things. What mattered most was whether his injuries had been carried over into this realm. Only one way to find out.

Drawing in a deep breath, Sora unsheathed his katana, poising it in a horizontal stance in front of him. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and took in another breath to activate Total Concentration Breathing. Much to his delight, his ribs did not ache at the activity, encouraging him to carry on to the next stage of his experiment. In a blindingly quick flourish, he swung the blade into a graceful but deadly arc of sheer concentrated strength, cutting down the neck of an imaginary enemy.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!_

No pain came after that. If anything, the attack reinvigorated Sora in the same way as inhaling a cup of steaming coffee after getting out of bed. That settles it; his injuries are nonexistent while he was within the Final World. A pleased grin crept across his face. This was the perfect spot to train! Not having to worry about reopening still-healing wounds, and most of all, not having to fret about oblivious people walking in on him practicing magic.

Maybe he could start with mastering Blizzard by his lonesome? Or should he wait for Xion?

 _The spells could wait,_ Sora finally decided. _I need to brush up on the Dance right now._

Levelling the sword to his eye-level by his side, he ran through the twelve forms of the family kagura, racking his memory as hard as he could. Spins, leaps, lunges, somersaults. Intense movements that turned his bloodstream and lungs into scorching liquid fire. A fitting aftereffect, considering the deity this ritualistic dance was dedicated towards. It was just as he remembered, a dance that could have been a magnificent sword-wielding style.

A pity he hadn't had the chance to perform it for the last two years.

The twelfth form ended, completing the whole dance with the sword angled in such a manner that the point was directed earthwards at a slight tilt to the right. His body trembled from exertion, gasping in breaths despite the burning sensations of his lungs.

Yet, exhaustion did nothing to stifle the euphoric laughter that erupted moments later. Before Sora knew it, he had collapsed onto his rear, elation coursing through his entire system. He was exhausted, immensely so. But the feeling that came with it… it was pure bliss! That wasn't a foreign emotion; it was the exact feeling as when a warrior reunites with the weapon they were meant to wield. Except in this case, this was a style that felt it had been personally tailored to his strengths and combat disposition, despite it leaving him wracked with fatigue after performance.

As skilful as Sora was with the Breath of Water, he just didn't have the affinity for it like he had with the Dance of the Fire God. They were similar in the sense that their effectiveness derived from a special breathing technique, but that was where the similarities ended. The Water Breathing was fluid and graceful, yet unexpectedly powerful when the situation calls for it, just like its elemental namesake. A style that emphasises on adaptability on the battlefield, like water changing its shape to fit its container. While he prided himself on his versatility in combat, the Breath of Water was decidedly not the right one for him.

The Dance, on the other hand, was none of that. If he had to choose something to compare it to, Sora would have gone for the sun with no hesitation. Demanding would be an understatement if it were carried out by an untrained body. Its movements were so intense, so much so that it rivalled the passion of the sun on a severe drought in summer. A sword dance that pushes its wielder's body beyond the expected limits that when executed well, it would grant them an immeasurable boost in power. Fast, furious and passionate, yet not lacking in defenses at it would seem at first glance.

It was a fighting style Sora would definitely have favoured. Well-rounded, not at all lacking in the offensive or defensive departments. A 'Master of All' type.

Letting out one last chortle, he got back up to his feet, fiery determination spurring a desire to bring the Kamado's legacy into battle. Retaking his stance, he redid the routine, again, and again, not stopping until each movement had been "pounded into the marrows of his bones and engraved deeply into his mind", as Sabito liked to call it. Even as fatigue threatened to drag his body to the ground, Sora forced himself to continue developing the Dance into practical sword techniques, form by form.

By the time he had developed the twelfth form into a satisfactory combat technique, he was ready to keel over at a moment's notice. The sword was brought into a powerful horizontal slash, followed by twirling it masterfully by the handle before sheathing it back into its scabbard.

Then, he blacked out, falling onto his back and sinking into the metaphysical watery depths. And he woke up with regret pooling in his chest, the consequences of his impulsive decision hitting him like a bullet train.

Lesson learned: everything sans physical injuries can be carried over to his avatar on the Final World, and vice versa. The latter included whatever skills he had mastered over there and, unfortunately, the same goes for exhaustion. Although the results were worthwhile, the grogginess that clouded his mind and how stiff his body felt was a nuisance. He wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and snooze the day away, but Xion had other ideas.

"Wake up, lazy bum!" she had chided, rolling him to the side with a not-so gentle nudge of her foot. "It's almost noon!"

"One more minute…" he groaned, folding his pillow over his ears to block out the noise. "I'm beat. Do me a favour and let me sleep it off…"

"What in the name of Light did you do last night?!" demanded Xion, sounding like she was just a fraction away from slapping him silly. "You never got tired from walking or fighting multiple nights in a row. What happened to you?"

"Training," he mumbled groggily, beginning to slip back into sleep. "Guess I went overboard."

"What! This isn't funny, Sora!"

"Serious," he said absent-mindedly. "I know better than not to exert my body as it is, so I went to the Final World to train instead."

"What difference does it make?" the demoness sighed, giving out a scent of exasperation. "You should be resting, not wearing yourself out into mush."

"Sorry," slurred Sora. "I just wanted to brush up on the Dance so I can teach you better. Didn't you say you wanted to learn it?"

She gave no response, but there was a stench of regret and shame permeating the air. Moments later, he felt a pair of arms snaking around his waist and a face pressing affectionately against his back. Her embrace felt warm, a far cry from the icy touch she used to have.

"Just… take care of yourself, alright?" whispered Xion, her voice cracking up.

He shifted, frowning when he saw tears brimming in her semi-closed eyes. Quietly, he adjusted himself, pulling her into a tighter hug and brushing his thumb across her eyes. She stilled, burying her face deeper into his chest.

"Don't cry. I don't mean to make you worry," soothed Sora. His lips quirked upwards into a wistful smile, feeling the tears gathering in his closed eyes. "I guess I'm lucky for you to be reborn as my baby sister, aren't I?"

"You sappy idiot," she snapped, but it lacked the usual edge. "If Kairi were here, she would have given you a good lecture."

"Nah," he grinned cheekily back. "She'll slap me first, tell me off and then hug me."

"Smartass," retorted Xion with a relieved smile, leaning against his chest. "I was so worried when you wouldn't wake up."

"Aren't I awake now?"

"You haven't changed much, have you?" she replied in jest, finally detaching herself from Sora, wiping her eyes with a swipe of her sleeve. "Seems like being the breadwinner of the family for years wasn't enough to fully shake the laziness off you."

"Good afternoon. Finally awake, I see?" exclaimed Hoshiko abruptly, entering the room with a tray in hand. The aroma of food wafted into the room. They flinched, turning their surprised stares to the middle-aged woman. "I was about to call in a doctor if you had slept on, you know?"

"Sorry for all the trouble I caused," he apologised, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I was exhausted."

"I'm not surprised," she chuckled, placing down the tray beside his futon. There was a bowl of rice, some grilled fish, pickled vegetables and a bowl of steaming miso soup on the tray. "You demon slayers are so hardworking, but please take care of yourself. Don't make your sister worry so much."

"Hear that, _nii-san?"_ drawled Xion with a knowing smile, purposefully dragging out the honorific.

"Yes, yes," he laughed, fondly ruffling her hair. "Loud and clear."

She scowled in mock annoyance, playfully swatting the offending hand away.

"Siblings," sighed Hoshiko with an amused shake of her head. "Well, I'll leave you to your meal. Call me when you're done eating."

"Thank you," nodded Sora with a grateful smile. The woman returned the gesture, politely excusing herself out of the room.

"Have you eaten yet, Xion?"

"I already had lunch," she answered, pushing the tray closer to Sora. "But you haven't. Just eat, don't worry about me."

He nodded, grimacing a tad when he extended his arms to reach for the bowl of rice. "Yeesh, my arms feel stiff."

"I believe that happens when you train too hard," deadpanned Xion, watching Sora scarf down the meal like he always did. In private, that is. He wouldn't dare eat so savagely in front of people that were not his trusted comrades.

"Yeesh, haven't you told me off enough" said Sora. "By the way, can you-"

"No," she interjected. Sora glanced up, confused. Sighing, the demoness added, "I know what you're thinking. You're not going back to the Final World until you get some rest in, and I won't ask you to train me until you recover fully. That's final."

"Fine," he groused. "But you didn't answer my question."

"Yes. I. Can," she grunted, punctuating each syllable forcefully. "Happy now?"

"Very," quipped Sora, chewing on a piece of fish.

Her response was to bury her face into her hands, muffling a drawn-out groan of frustration.

* * *

Xion didn't come to the Final World with him until two days after, after the doctor had deemed Sora well enough to carry out some moderate exercises. He was still confined to the hiatus, anyway.

She took to learning it almost like a duck to water, although Sora noticed that it left her winded every time she executed a form. Aside from the frequent need for corrections in her movements, Xion was doing rather well in learning the Dance. By the end of the third visit, Xion had mastered most of the forms, but applying it to actual combat was still a work in progress. The main problem being that she kept on faltering mid-execution and thus reducing the effectiveness of the attack.

Sora has yet to decide whether it was because Xion reflexively fell back to the Breath of Water, only to change it mid-way to a form of the Dance of the Fire God, or that her foundation was still shaky.

Just like himself, she had reverted to her original appearance of a petite black-haired, indigo-eyed girl upon arriving in the Final World, with nothing from her current appearance save for the aster hairpin in her hair. However, it seemed she had undergone a wardrobe change, rather than changing back into her preferred choice of clothing like himself.

Instead of her chosen attire, she donned a light gray tank-top with black frills at the top hems, paired with a black skirt lined with an alabaster stripe patterned with dark hatches at the edge held at her waist with an ebony belt, her nichirin blade's scabbard slung at her right hip. Over her tank top was a black denim hoodie with midnight blue highlights at the placket and the rim of the pockets, coupled with four silver buttons at the front - two on each side - and sable fingerless gloves to complete the picture. An arrowhead-tipped silver cross charm, just like the one on Roxas' zipper, dangled from her neck from a black string.

To be honest, Sora thought Xion looked better in this getup than her old one.

Before they ended their third training session, the two siblings dedicated their time to learn the three spells. It was a cinch this round, as they now knew what to expect and how to utilise it. Said magical training somehow went from conducting test runs, into an intense game of Blizzard-and-Fire tag that had no clear winner. At the end, both of them had their butts glued to the ground; grinning, panting and red in the face from exhaustion, along from laughing too hard at the ridiculous 'makeup' they inadvertently received during the impromptu game.

The fourth night came as a total surprise to the siblings.

Just like the previous nights, they had wanted to access the Final World. Things didn't go as planned, and they wound up in a different realm by accident. A dark void where the laws of physics held little weight, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a starry sky on a clear winter's night. Scintillating vanilla mist - reminding Sora of the galaxies he'd seen during his interstellar voyages - functioned as a pathway leading to countless massive ornate doors scattered all over the dimension.

"Whoa," breathed Xion in awe, softly landing on the misty path. She took in the new surroundings with amazement.

"Where are we?" Sora mused aloud, watching the breathtaking scenery with his eyes wide with wonder. "This definitely isn't the Final World."

"I don't know," she replied with a frown. "Maybe we should look around?"

Humming in concurrence, they split up, inspecting the various doorways to see if it might yield a clue to their whereabouts. They would have ventured to wherever the gates would have led to, had they not been bound by thick bronze chains held securely in place with a sturdy padlock forged out of light. Inwardly, they both knew they could shatter the lock, but just staring at the chains gave them an eerie premonition that told them doing so was not a good idea.

So they obeyed their intuition. Which presented another set of problems soon enough.

"Hey, Sora!" called Xion, causing said person to snap his head towards the waving girl. "This one's unlocked!"

He rushed over to join her before aquamarine doors, its thick cobalt frames edged with sparkling silver carved in the image of calm ocean waves. Unlike its brethren, the chains that were supposed to bind it shut were ripped off, leaving the remnants hanging ominously from the inner edges. Flickering golden shrapnels of a destroyed padlock scattered haphazardly on the misty ground before the mysterious entrance. Wisps of dark miasma diffused menacingly from the ornate gates, dark smoke overflowing with a horrid pong of sulfurous fumes.

"Do you feel it?"

"The Darkness?" clarified Xion, before nodding once. "Yeah. Clear as day."

"Do you think…" trailed Sora, looking distantly at an unspecified corner. "The Heartless are still around?"

"We hadn't seen any," she shrugged. "But I don't think they would disappear without a trace just like that. Darkness will always exist in people's hearts."

"Should we destroy the darkness plaguing whatever lies beyond this door?"

"We should."

On cue, Sora latched both hands on the handles and pushed. It yielded to his strength with a drawn-out groan, releasing blinding torrents of golden light that wasted no time in engulfing the two siblings. As soon as it happened, the light receded, dropping them off in what seemed to be in the heart of a spacious hall. The celebration was in full swing, with people dressed in fancy clothes bustling back and forth, engaging in lively chatterings and eagerly downing cups of alcoholic drinks.

"Huh. Wonder what the commotion is all about?" mused Sora, crossing his arms. He walked over to a finely dressed man, and asked, "Excuse me. May I know what's going on here?"

The man paid no mind to him, laughing away at some joke his friend told him and gaily drinking away. Slightly peeved, Sora raised a hand to tap on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. A gasp escaped him when he saw his hand phasing through the man's shoulder, like he was nothing more than an intangible phantom. Or maybe _he_ was the phantom.

"An illusion?" muttered Xion thoughtfully.

"Or maybe a projected memory," he countered with a theory of his own. "This feels a bit too solid to be an illusion."

"Guess we'll have to settle with quiet observations," she sighed. "And keep our eyes peeled on the Heartless or whatever."

Exchanging nods, they split up once again, taking their places in opposite corners. Sora went for the innermost corner of the room, shuddering whenever he walked through a ghostly crowd. That felt too much like walking through dusty cobwebs in a warehouse neglected for decades. Not a single person paid them any mind, as expected, going about their own businesses. It was good, since it left them the opportunity to observe the commotion with a peace of mind.

Eventually, he figured that it was a wedding reception from the snippets of conversations he had overheard. There was no sign of the bride and groom, but Sora assumed that they were most likely somewhere out of his sight - probably still greeting their guests. He leant back against the wall with his arms folded, watching the hubbub with a detached yet alert stance, much like how a stone gargoyle would guard its church from unwanted guests.

Hours flew by, the celebratory mood gradually winding down as guests retired back to their abodes for the night. One by one, they left the room, until all that remained from the celebration were a young couple. They looked exhausted, but their eyes gleamed with happiness, hands intertwined together that strongly suggested an intimate relationship. Sora raised a curious eyebrow, watching the two disappear behind a sliding door.

"Seen anything?" asked Xion, as she walked towards Sora.

"Nothing," he replied with a shake of his head. Even with his sensitive nose and keen instincts, the intrusive Darkness remained out of his senses. "I'm starting to think we're on a wild goose chase."

"Um, who are you two?"

In unison, they snapped their eyes towards where they heard the childish voice from, zeroing on a boy with shaggy black hair and glassy cobalt eyes. Someone who they are familiar with, albeit in a much younger form. He stared back at the duo, fidgeting anxiously at where he stood, eyes reflecting with confusion and nervousness.

"Giyuu?!" spluttered Sora, almost hitting the ground from shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Why shouldn't I?" replied young Giyuu, confusion seeping into his blank countenance. "I live here. And how did you know my name?"

"You can see us?" blurted Xion.

"Is this some sort of joke?" demanded the young boy, scowling. "It isn't funny!"

"No, it isn't a joke," stated Sora, kneeling down to his eye level. "If you don't believe us, get someone here."

Young Giyuu shot off as soon as the words left Sora's mouth, eager to prove them wrong. Moments after, a flustered woman hurried into the room where Sora and Xion were still in, ushered in by none other than young Giyuu. She took a cautious look around the room, her eyes skimming past the duo like they were nonexistent, before turning back to her brother with an exasperated smile.

"There's no one here, Yuu," she said, eyes half-drooping from exhaustion. "You must be tired. Why don't you go to bed now?"

"But…" he opened his mouth to protest, only to be silenced with a finger to his lips.

"No excuses," the woman stated firmly, like the tone a mother would take if their children defied them.

He wilted visibly, throwing the duo a final look before he reluctantly headed to bed. The woman sighed with a shake of her head, gently closing the door behind her and leaving them in the silence of the now empty room. They stared after them, both of them wondering to themselves why young Giyuu could see them when the others could not.

The brunet flinched, his nose picking up the telltale scent of a demon. Faint, but still detectable. His right hand twitched, itching to unsheathe his sword in one fluid motion and run after the demon. Sora shot Xion a knowing glance, to which she returned an understanding nod. The two went after them, creeping through the narrow gap they managed to soundlessly crack open and shutting it as soon as they walked through, with Sora taking the lead.

Crescendoing screams and panicked crashes shattered the calm silence of the house, accompanied by the overbearing stench of fear. Alarmed, they kicked down the door and burst into the room with one hand on the hilts of their katanas, fervently praying that the inhabitants of the house were still alive, by some miracle.

By the time they arrived, the woman from earlier had gone down with a vicious slash at the neck artery. Blood spurted from the three large gashes on her neck as she fell to the ground, crying out in pain as she drew in her last breath before silently slumping face-down in a growing pool of blood. Another corpse - this one male - lay beside her, his glassy eyes rolled to the back of his skull and contributing to the growing pool of deep crimson on the floor. Towering over them was a hunchbacked demon with a curved horn at its top left spot of its head, froth overflowing from its fanged mouth like a rabid beast.

Through the overbearing stench of blood and death, Sora's nose alerted him of a living presence hidden inside a closet. There was no time to investigate, for something else claimed his utmost attention.

Over the couple's lifeless corpses, clouds of darkness escaped from the bodies in huge torrents, enveloping the grotesque demon in an oily cocoon. The shadows slouched away mere seconds after, revealing a white dragon that was twice the size of an average adult male where the demon once stood. Its talons were tinged with inky purple at the tips and vermillion at the heels. Carmine spots dotted all over its tail, and the spikes at its tail were a vivid shade of violet. On its forehead was a black sigil of a heart with a pointed arrowhead end and two batwing protrusion pointing inwards.

"Oh, crap," mumbled Sora, face paling rapidly. "Why a Nightmare Ryu Dragon, of all things?!"

As though understanding what the brunet had just said, the dragon let out a blood-curdling screech as it crashed onto the ground, rearing back and its maw agape as energy condensed in its mouth.

"Scatter!"

They both dodge-rolled out of there. Just as a massive firebolt struck at the same spots where they once stood. The impact of the detonation blasted them off-balance, causing Sora to slam against the door of a closet where he smelt a human presence from. It wasn't painful at all, but the sudden blast made him a tad disoriented. Staggering, he got back to full height, his back facing the closet and taking up a battle-ready stance with his nichirin blade.

"Any ideas?" shouted Xion, her platinum-gold blade out and ready for battle.

"Um…" Sora racked his head, trying to remember the Nightmare's weakness. Nothing came to mind, and he muttered a string of frustrated curses underneath his breath. "I can't remember! Just avoid the elemental attacks and you should be fine! Probably."

"Isn't that reassuring!" she yelled sarcastically, ducking a swipe that would have severed her head off.

The Ryu Dragon stumbled from the missed attack, leaving a glaring opening in its defenses that Xion wasted no time in exploiting. Before it could land back on all four feet, she drove her blade in a skyward slash, aiming the razor-sharp edge at the dragon's vulnerable belly… only for the katana to phased through flesh, as if the metal was nothing more than a phantom.

_What the…?_

Roaring, the Ryu Dragon reared, intent on squashing Xion into a bloody splotch. Sora's eyes widened; she was too far away for him to be able to rush to her defense! Not to mention he couldn't leave the closet door unguarded, in case the Nightmare decided to go after the dreamer.

Fortunately, it seemed that there was no need for his aid. She yelped, instinctively bringing her arms before her in a futile gesture of defense as a black puddle formed beneath her feet, swallowing her whole without a trace. The dragon slammed its full weight with a resounding boom, unaware that she was no longer there. Another portal materialised beside Sora, spitting out a trembling and pale Xion.

"Oh, jeez, I thought I was a goner there!" she breathed shakily, her words punctuated with exerted heaves.

"You alright?"

"I'll live," she replied, flashing him a trembling thumbs up and a shaky smile. It didn't last long, quickly morphing into a confused frown "My attack. Why didn't it work on it?"

"We'll have to rely on magic," he said through clenched teeth. "It might be because they weren't Keyblades, no matter how much light they hold. Besides."

Sora tapped at the closet door behind him, eliciting a startled yell and something - or more accurately, some _one_ \- hitting the ground from inside. Xion's eyes widened, immediately understanding the weight of the situation.

"The Nightmare is most likely after him," gestured Sora. "At his current state, he is in no shape to defend himself, so we must guard him."

"Ranged attacks it is," decided Xion with a nod.

Nightmare Ryu Dragon bellowed once more, gathering fiery energy within its maw and readying a Flare attack. Their faces hardened in determination, absent-mindedly flexing their dominant hands, channelling and shaping their mana into the best counter-spell they have in their arsenal. The fireball grew to its zenith, and both Dream Eaters' eyes widened, recognising it as the perfect moment to unleash their spell.

"FIRE!" they yelled, thrusting an open palm into the energy ball.

Crimson bursts of sweltering energy shot forth, colliding with the energy ball before it even had time to leave the Nightmare's maw. The collision sparked off a magnificent explosion, blowing up anything unfortunate enough to be in its vicinity. Out of instinct, they threw themselves over the closet door, grunting as they endured the tremendous impact inflicted on their backs. Glaring light seared their retinas, momentarily wiping their visions into a white void and fading seconds later, revealing the house in complete shambles in the aftermath of the detonation.

And the Ryu Dragon was still in one piece, having the audacity to appear unfazed by the fiery backlash of its failed attack.

"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Xion in exasperation, gawking at the Nightmare shaking the dust off itself like nothing happened. "Shouldn't it be smoking at the spines or something?!"

"It isn't called a dragon for nothing," chucked Sora nervously, drumming his fingers against the hilt of his nichirin blade. He got back onto his feet. "Another round?"

She didn't need to be told twice. Twin firebolts were unleashed, hitting their mark on the Nightmare's snout, but it didn't seem fazed by the spells at all. If anything, it looked even more pissed than it already was. Howling furiously, it flared its wings as it stomped on the ground repeatedly, generating powerful shockwaves that shook the entire terrain, open snout spewing out pressurised gushes of liquid flames at random directions.

Not wanting to waste their energy countering it with a lacklustre Blizzard, they tucked a disgruntled boy under their arm and leapt out of the magma's range. Not fast enough. Droplets of magma splattered onto Xion's unprotected forearm, eating away at her flesh until she cast Blizzard onto the afflicted area, encasing the injured area with a thin layer of frost. Sniffles broke their concentration, causing them to shift a curious glance at the charge they were apparently tasked to protect.

"Stop it…" he sobbed, cowering away from the torn battlefield.

"What?" gaped Xion, aghast at the pathetic plea.

"Just leave me," muttered young Giyuu, as if it explained everything. "I'm not someone worth getting hurt for."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Sora, rapidly shifting his attention on the incensed Nightmare and the near-catatonic boy.

"I SAID STOP IT!" he screamed, violently shaking his head with both hands clamped over his ears. "Don't save me! Tsutako-nee is dead because I couldn't protect anyone. And now you will die because I can't do anything! Don't you see? It's all my fault! I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me anymore. It's for the best…"

" _Is that why we can't do a number on that Nightmare?"_ thought Xion, understanding dawning on her soot-covered face. _"Because he thinks he was responsible for every tragedy that involves him? This is some messed up guilt complex."_

" _Well, we'll have to change his mind!"_ prompted Sora. _"No one deserves this, not even my worst enemy!"_

"Our job is to defend people who can't fight for themselves," argued Sora vehemently, sapphire eyes glinting with steely determination. "Getting injured is a sacrifice we are willing to make in the name of protecting others. Don't blame yourself for a choice we made for ourselves."

"And don't you think we're going to leave you here, ever!" she added, glowering. "You're in no position to be the judge of your own worth right now. We're ending this Nightmare, and that's final."

"But-"

"No, you're not! Stop saying that!" snapped Xion, her hand twitching restlessly on the hilt of her katana. "If you were, you wouldn't have spared my life two years ago, against everything your duty stood for. You wouldn't have seen the humanity I still retain underneath the skin of an abomination. And you definitely wouldn't have humoured our conviction to find a cure for this damned curse by sending us to your mentor!"

Young Giyuu's eyes widened, staring dumbly into her own. Sora couldn't pinpoint the exact emotions sparking at sporadic intervals within his glassy blue eyes, but he would be lying if he claimed that he didn't harbour some hope that they had knocked some sense through his noggin. It didn't matter if he responded; what was important was that he changed his mind. That he - somehow, and by some miracle - realise that he still wanted to keep on living.

If not… then the Nightmare would torment him forever. There's nothing much they could do if their charge refused to see what was worth in himself.

"It's true!" added Sora imploringly for good measure. "You don't deserve to be trapped in this horrible nightmare! Nobody does!"

Screeches interrupted their spontaneous pep talk, drawing their attention back to the Nightmare circling overhead. Letting loose a battle roar, it made a steep dive towards them, draconic form cloaked in fiery green. Initially, Sora wanted to activate Firestorm, but he faltered just as the magical energy thrummed eagerly in his chest cavity, Naminé's warnings about refraining from using Limits ringing ominously in his skull. With a resigned sigh, he released the buildup of mana, letting it peter and disperse back into his system.

Eyes snapping back to full attention, Sora seized young Giyuu by the waist, pulling him along with his inhuman leap. Just as the fireball smashed a smoking crater. Shrieking, the dragon pounced onto Sora, wings flared and claws sharpened to a deadly point, only to its claws to be blocked by his nichirin blade.

Snarling, the Nightmare flapped its wings, adding more force behind its already tremendous weight. He grunted at the sudden increase in pressure against his sword, drawing a deep inhale to give him the strength he needed to throw the Ryu Dragon off-balance. With a yell, Sora swung his katana, yanking it free from the dragon's weight and slammed the butt of the blade into its vulnerable torso. Except, the weapon phased through it, just like how Xion's had gone through it like it had been a spectre.

In an anticlimactic turn of events, he hit the ground, not even having the privilege to cry out in surprise when the Nightmare stomped on him. Hard. So hard, that it squeezed the wind out of his lungs like a kid jumping on a very leaky air mattress. Excruciating agony hammered at his chest, crushing his links to consciousness with ruthless ease. One. By. One. Until all that kept him coherent was his sheer willpower, and the immense weight lifting off his body.

Even that couldn't last forever. The last he heard was an enraged battle cry, before falling into the abyss of unconsciousness.

* * *

Giyuu was having the worst migraine of his life.

It would have been much more bearable, were it just a mere physical ailment in the waking world. At least he could numb it with some painkillers and then sleep the pain off. But _no,_ his mind decided that a nightmare isn't complete without a splitting headache. A nightmare he had no way of waking up from, forcing him to face his inner demons, all merged into a singular entity. A terrifying force of nature, if he wanted to get poetic.

Whenever Giyuu laid eyes on the living personification of his nightmare, flashes of a foreign memory would play in his mind. Most of them were about a boy with spiky brown hair with a crown necklace (exactly like the one that swordsman wore), a redhead girl (she and the dark-haired girl looked like twins), and fierce battles between the forces of light and darkness. All of which were tinged with heavy, poignant emotions, as though the original bearer of those memories had lived a life full of regret, sorrow and self-hatred.

Not unlike himself.

It felt alien, yet at the same time it felt right. It was like revisiting a childhood memory for nostalgia's sake, only to feel a sense of disillusionment when they saw the alien yet familiar remnant of their younger and innocent days. Deep down in his heart, he felt that he should know them, but his mind obstinately insisted that he shouldn't. That had gone beyond confusing; it had ventured into obscure territories that he couldn't put a name to.

Eventually, the agony of his inner dilemma rose to a tipping point, proving too much for his normally infallible stoicism to handle. Succumbing to a pain-induced delirium, he rambled, acting on a repressed personality and suppressed emotions. He had no clue what he said exactly, other than it was straight from the heart. The feelings that he kept under lock and key, where he had hoped that it would remain in the darkness evermore until it rotted away.

Apparently, that was not meant to be.

A voice repeated itself inside his head, every time one of those baffling flashbacks wound down into oblivion. Over and over, not accepting his tormented silence at the end of each memory as a valid answer. When it posed its question once again, he couldn't help but snap a sarcastic question back.

_Do you wish to reclaim your legacy?_

_**What's the price? My life? My sanity? Or my firstborn?** _

_Your sense of humour is insufferable. Do you not want to save them?_

_**Why should I?** _

_Are they not your friends? I recall that you have grown attached to them._

_**Who I associate with is none of your business. Why do you keep pestering me with that question? I thought I made it obvious that I didn't want to be bothered.** _

_Just like the Key, the Lightning and the Reflection, you are given the chance to awaken. Will you accept it?_

_**You've got the wrong person. I'm no one special. Find someone else to do the job.** _

_Oh, I am afraid you misunderstood. Out of them all, you are one of the few worthy of the 'Guardian' title. That power still slumbers within you, although your original legacy is lost to the passage of time. It is very difficult to mistake the glowing potential hidden within your heart and soul. You are unique, one of a kind, even amongst your equals. There is no one else like you. I can help you unlock those suppressed abilities, if you would let me._

_**Hmph. I don't see why I would accept this devil's bargain of yours.** _

_Devil? Please. The entity you call 'devil' only exists in the minds of mortals. This is not a bargain, for your destiny has long since set in stone. All I am doing is nudging you towards the right direction. Your comrades - kinsmen, dare I say - are eagerly awaiting your return. It would be cruel to deny them that, would it not?_

_**I have no kin left.** _

_They will be your kin -_ _ if _ _you awaken. So what do you say?_

_**Will I leave this life behind?** _

_Oh,_ _ no _ _! If that is what you are concerned about, there is no need for that. Your memories of this life will not be wiped clean to make way for the original personality. Think of it as a permanent fusion, with you having traits from both incarnations of yourself. You will still identify yourself as you are now, but with some detachment. Do not worry, your memories and sentiments that define you in this incarnation will be carried forth. Worse comes to worse, you will be living - what was the term again? Ah, yes - a double life, until the whole ensemble is gathered. So what do you say?_

_**...Fair enough.** _

On cue, images rushed into his mind, filling up the gaps between the flashbacks. As more of those images surfaced, the pain that once threatened to split his head into halves subsided without putting up so much as a struggle, leaving behind a tranquil calmness. Within a subconscious realm, Giyuu's avatar walked towards the shadows, patting the stirring other-him on the shoulder with a resigned smirk, as though passing on a metaphorical torch.

His other-self flashed a grateful smile back, clapping a hand over his wrist and nodding resolutely, as though to reassure him. Cobalt eyes met teal, and Giyuu's avatar smiled for the last time. His eyes fluttered shut, a peaceful countenance washing over his normally blank features as he fell on his back, limp form fading away into motes of crystal blue light that melded into the stained glass platform. An apt symbolism of the harmonious unification of the two personalities: the old and the new. Light exploded from the Station, whisking the newly awakened reincarnate back into his Dream reality.

As though someone had set his body on auto-pilot, he felt himself breaking into a sprint through closed eyes, the familiar weight of his scabbard slapping against his sides. In a fluid motion, he pulled his katana free from its restraints, just as his eyes snapped open - revealing cobalt irises flecked with teal. Upon exposure to air, the blue blade's colouration darkened into a rich reddish violet hue (like the twilit sky, he noted with amusement), all the way to the third-quarter mark where it lightened into pale gold. A colour the Guardians have come to associate with the element they had pledged their allegiances to.

"GET LOST!" he roared, ramming the butt of his sword into the dragon's temple.

The winged reptile regarded him, but it had noticed him too late for it to evade the attack. The powerful collision knocked the Nightmare off-balance, just enough for it to fully remove its crushing weight on the comatose brunet. Seizing his opportunity, he scooped the boy up and backpedalled away from the dazed dragon, rejoining a gawking Xion's side.

"Riku?!" she blurted out, covering her mouth with a shaky hand.

"Long time, no see. Xion," he greeted back, saluting her with two fingers. Carefully, he placed Sora back on the ground by her feet. "Watch him for me, won't you? It's about time I face my inner demons."

"Go get them," said Xion, the edges of her lip twitched upwards into an encouraging smile. "Promise we'll meet in the real world soon?"

"No promises," chuckled Riku. "But I'll try."

The raven-haired girl nodded, clutching Sora's inert body closer to her chest as they both shimmered out of existence. In a burst of golden light, they vanished, spiriting themselves out of the Realm of Sleep and back into the real world.

He turned his attention back to the Ryu Dragon, taking up his stance, passively watching the Nightmare charging up another fire attack which he identified as a Firaga Burst. Entering a meditative state, Riku inhaled deeply, his posture still as a statue as he waited for the right moment to unleash his hidden technique. Hearing the Nightmare bellowing, he cracked his eyes open lazily, nonchalantly watching the barrages of fireballs hurtling towards him.

_Total Concentration, Water Breathing, Eleventh Form: Lull._

The fireballs were sliced into shards just as they were about to hit him, clattering harmlessly as dull shards at the ground beside his feet. Then, he vanished, reappearing in front of a stunned Nightmare Dragon to deliver a lightning quick slash. The attack bisected the Nightmare cleanly into half, wisps of dark miasma spilling forth as it gave one last howl of defeat, crashing onto the ground, never to get up. Glaring light erupted from the disintegrating remains of the Ryu Dragon, painting his entire vision white.

As soon as it happened, Riku jolted awake in his personal chamber of the Water Estate, his breathing laboured and his body slick with a thin layer of sweat. Taking a few minutes to calm himself, he stared at his hands blankly, recollecting the strangely vivid dream that he had and his Awakening within a dream.

Light chuckles escaped him, and he shook his head in disbelief. Once upon a time, he had been Sora's Dream Eater, rescuing his childhood friend from the darkness that tried to trap him within the confines of an everlasting sleep. It seemed that the brunet returned the favour in this lifetime, knocking some sense into him and helped him muster up the courage to stand up against the Nightmare that had tormented him for years. At his own expense, as usual.

So he supposed he could call it even?

He glanced at the window, noting it to be daybreak. Heaving a sigh, Riku got out of bed, walking over to the wall mount where his nichirin blade was propped onto. He wondered if the blade would change colour like it had in his dream, to which his voice of reason instantly ridiculed and reminding him that it would stay that colour once it was unsheathed for the first time. Still, it wouldn't hurt to humour his curiosity, would it?

Removing it from the mount, he pulled the katana out of its scabbard, the exquisite blue metal reflecting his expectant countenance. In the past, when he was just Giyuu Tomioka, he had a mane of shaggy raven hair. Now that he had reawakened his memories as Riku, his once black locks now gained a silvery gradient, turning silver at the tips while the roots kept its dark colouration. Cobalt irises flecked with teal at the outer rim gazed back. Yet another reminder of who he was before entering this life.

Minutes passed, yet no change occurred. Heart inexplicably sinking in disappointment, he was about to sheath it when something miraculous happened.

"Oh crap," he breathed in amazement.

Reddish violet spots dotted all over the bluish metal, oceanic blue fading to light gray to make room for the new colour as the spots grew into splotches. The changeover was gradual, but certain. When the violet hue reached the third-quarter mark, it lightened to a pale golden gradient, a colour that stretched to the blade's tip. Riku's jaw dropped, every thought process running in his mind grinding to an abrupt halt from utter astonishment.

 _Well, this is definitely going to raise a lot of questions,_ thought Riku, scratching the back of his head in exasperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter out! Nothing much to say here, but I hoped you enjoyed the latest chapter. Oh, and this fic is placed on temporary hiatus because of my upcoming trial exams. Please be patient with me! I'll be back in, say, end of November. I'll upload more frequently once I'm done with my IGCSEs in October/November. Again, thanks in advance for your limitless patience!


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